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Prayer Flags and the Temple, Shigatang (p. 96).

TIBETAN TREK

RONALD KAULBACK

LONDON

HODDER AND STOUGHTON LIMITED

First printed . . . 1934
Popular edition . * - 1936

Printed and Bound in Great Britain for Hodder & Stoughton, Limited,
by Richard Clay & Sons, Limited, Bungay, Suffolk.

MY MOTHER

INTRODUCTION

Anyone who takes upon himself to introduce an
author to the public must of necessity write a eulogy,
more or less; otherwise he may receive a writ for
libel ! I have endeavoured to meet this obvious
suggestion of bias by writing nothing except what
I had already said and written about Ronald Kaul-
back, privately, before he ever decided to write a
book at all; but I do not repudiate the suggestion
of bias. Many accusations have been brought
against the “ modern young man . 55 His defence is
often unanswerable — an alibi. “At the material time I
was in the stratosphere (or Tibet, or Matto Grosso ). 55
Our modem young men are much too busy inventing,
creating and discovering to have time to answer these
charges; so it seems rather unfair to bring them.
Probably there are exceptions; there is always froth
on the surface.

Ronald Kaulback came down from Cambridge
having skilfully avoided reading too many books, or
attending too many lectures. He had no very clear
idea of what he wanted to do in life, but he did know
that he could make a name for himself. Fate took
him to the Royal Geographical Society, where he
decided to equip himself with the bed-rock knowledge
required of an explorer — a knowledge of surveying.
It was there that I first met him. From that moment
his mind was made up ; he would become an

iii

IV INTRODUCTION

explorer. I was looking for someone to accompany
me to Tibet, preferably a surveyor. Here was the
very man, of that I had no doubt.

As soon as we had come to an understanding,
Ronald Kaulback threw himself whole-heartedly into
the work of preparation. I was impressed by his
sound common sense and his anxiety to take work
off my shoulders. Nor did he shirk responsibility.
For the first few days after we left civilisation, I was
worried about him. Had I made a mistake? But
I need not have alarmed myself. From Rima
onwards, when he had work of his own to do, he
began to shape into the real thing. His work was
astonishingly accurate and neat. Above all he was
thorough. He took an interest in everything, and
was an excellent companion. I never wish a better.

Then came the unlucky news that, for political
reasons, Kaulback would not be permitted by the
authorities to accompany me all the way. However
much this upset my plans, and disappointed me
personally, it was naturally a far more bitter dis-
appointment to Kaulback himself. Fie took the blow
quietly, like a man, neither complaining nor up-
braiding me. My respect for him increased. Finally,
the question arose, how was he to get back? To
return through the Mishmi Hills during the rainy
season was probably impossible ; there remained only
the long and difficult route via Fort Hertz and Burma.
Could Kaulback do it? I believed he could,
although the crossing of the Diphuk La had only
twice previously been performed by white men, on
both occasions by experienced travellers. Eventually
Ronald Kaulback, on this his first journey — he was

barely twenty-four — with his older companion.
Brooks Carrington, who was liable to break down,
led the party back over those inhospitable mountains
at the worst season of the year. Not without con-
siderable difficulty they reached Fort Hertz and
safety. My confidence in his powers was justified;
it was a remarkable feat, and proved him a born
explorer. On his return to England, Ronald Kaul-
back reaped his reward; he was asked to lecture to
the Royal Geographical Society.

I doubt, however, whether his friends will see him
for long. He has won his spurs as a serious explorer
at an early age, and has at least a quarter of a
century of exploration in front of him. We shall
hear of him again. The day is not far distant when
I shall be saying to my cronies, with pardonable
pride: “You know, Ronald Kaulback made his
first big journey with me ” !

F. Kingdon Ward.

CONTENTS

CHAP.

I. A YOUNG MAN ? S FANCY

II. WET BLANKETS .

III. THE PROMISED LAND .

IV. BEES IN THE BONNET .

V. NEW GROUND

VI. ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS

VII. PERILOUS PATHS .

VIII. CURIOUS CATTLE

IX. THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

X. MELODIOUS SOUNDS

XI. SMALL BEER

XII. THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE

XIII. ZOOLOGICAL SPA

XIV. RENEGADE VEGETARIANS

XV. DIVERS PAINS

XVI. NOT LOST .

XVII. RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL
INDEX

PAGE

105

121

136

I 5 I

167

187

205

223

241

258

274

295

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

PRAYER FLAGS AND THE TEMPLE, SHIGATANG Frontispiece
THE ROPE BRIDGE AT SHIGATANG . . . -57

KINGDON WARD IN HIGH STREET, ATA . . .112

LOOKING WEST FROM CHUTONG . . . . I2&

GLACIER CAMP WITH TWO HANGING GLACIERS BEYOND 1 36

THE LAST SIGHT OF KINGDON WARD AND CHUMBI.

FROM THE ATA KANG LA . . . . -144

THE TEMPLE ORCHESTRA, GETCHI GOMBA . . l 6 o

THE QI CHU VALLEY . . . . . 1 92

MULE BRIDGE, PANGNAMDIM 272

MAP I, SHOWING MR. KAULBACK’s OUTWARD ROUTE AS
FAR AS RIMA, AND ROUTE OF HIS RETURN JOURNEY

TO FORT HERTZ 28

MAP 2, SHOWING THE MORE NORTHERLY PART OF MR.

KAULBACK’S ROUTE 76

CHAPTER ONE

A YOUNG MAN'S FANCY '

“ Some said , 6 John, print it 5 ; others said, Not so/

Some said, * It might do good 5 ; others said ‘ No/ ”

John Bunyan. Apology for His Book .

I wrote all the rest of this book before starting the
first chapter because I could not think how to begin
it, and so wasted several valuable days scribbling
madly with no result. My brother Bill would have
been the man to have done it. Even at the age of
five his courage and determination amazed me. On
being set to write a composition, no matter what the
subject, ideas came to him in a flash, and in a very
few minutes the work was done. His essays were
masterpieces of brevity, written in a terse and utili-
tarian style of his own. The only one I can remember
in full was on “ Pigs,” and ran as follows : “ Pigs are
very yousful things. They are in too parts, Ham and
Bakin.” Unfortunately, Bill was out East and not
at hand to give me advice on the matter.

So far as I, personally, am concerned, the story of
this expedition into Tibet began years ago. From
the time my brother and I were babies, we were given
a marvellously active life by our father, Colonel
H. A. Kaulback, who died five years ago, when in
command of the ist Battalion, the King’s Own Royal
Regiment. We spent our whole time when not at
school in riding and shooting and generally ragging

12 TIBETAN TREK.

around in the open, being always driven to fresh
efforts by the fact that though he had only one arm,
he was able to do everything better than most people
with two. As a natural result, any thought of a
cramped life in towns, working in some business,
would have been unbearable to us. Bill went into
the Army, and I had a shot at a good many things,
but always with the thought of exploration hovering
as an impossible ideal at the back of my mind. For
some time I choked down my dislike of a regular
routine, and worked first of all to be a doctor, then a
gunner, and finally for the Diplomatic Service. After
I had failed for that, I filled in time with George
Russell by paddling a canoe from Dunkirk to Budapest,
a most amusing trip, though we did not find it so
funny at the time, when we were stranded in Hungary
for ten days with hardly a halfpenny between us and
perpetually under the eye of the police, who thought
we were Bolshevik agitators.

On our return to the bosoms of our families, George
went off to the Cameroons on the Percy Sladen
Expedition to catch rats for the British Museum, and
I came back to have another try for the Foreign Office.
My only assets were languages, and I found it dreary
work slaving away at economics and all that sort of
stuff. It was my mother who finally decided that
it would be far better for me to do what I had always
hankered after, if it could possibly be managed.
When she suddenly told me that, I felt like a prisoner
coming out of gaol after a long sentence, flung all my
books away, and set to on the new work with a will.

Thanks to Sir Percy Sykes, who made everything
easy for me, it was more or less plain sailing from then

A YOUNG MAN’S FANCY 13

on. With General Bruce, he got me into the Royal
Geographical Society, where I discovered that making
maps was the greatest joy in life, and also into the
Royal Central Asian Society, which must have one of
the finest libraries on Asia in the world. In fact,
without him I should probably have spent years in
trying to make a start without knowing how to set
about it. He has spent most of his life in exploring
Persia, and is a perfect mine of useful information. I
worked at maps for some months at the R.G.S. under
Mr. Reeves, who has taught pretty well every English
traveller since Stanley. Sir Percy Sykes, in spite of
being terribly busy on his “ History of Exploration,’’
still found time to take a more than kind interest in
my affairs, and one day in October, a letter came from
him to say that Captain F. Kingdon Ward, the well-
known explorer and botanist, was shortly setting off
for south-eastern Tibet, and that he was looking out
for someone to go with him. I met Kingdon Ward
himself a few days later, and we talked things over.
He had several other people in view, but for one
reason or another they all found it impossible to go
in the end, so that I had the luck to be chosen.

The whole thing seemed so much too good to be
true that it was a long time before I could rid myself
of the feeling that I would be certain to wake up soon
and find myself still working away at that darned
European History. One or two well-meaning friends
advised me to pinch myself, and even did it for me,
but there was no comfort in that; for, after all, it
must be just as easy to dream a pinch as to dream
anything else. I was filled with the wildest excite-
ment; but my spirits were sometimes damped by

14 TIBETAN TREK

various people who came up with an air of great
knowledge and asked what Company was running
the Cruise (of all things), and whether there was still
a chance for them to buy tickets. That took the wind
out of my sails at first, until I became more used to
the idea of going and could see the funny side of it all.
Others were still more disheartening. They gave me
looks of frozen disapproval as soon as they heard what
I was going to do, making me feel rather like a naughty
little boy caught playing truant when he should have
been sitting on a high stool doing his sums.

As it was entirely Kingdon Ward’s Expedition, the
primary object was, of course, to collect new flowers
and plants for cultivation in England. He is one of
the world’s greatest experts on Himalayan flowers,
and especially on rhododendrons, of which there are
apparently some eight hundred different varieties;
but though he has travelled all over Central Asia for
the last twenty-seven years, he had never been in that
part of Tibet which he was then planning to explore.
He was full of hope that he might find many entirely
unknown plants there, as, in fact, he did. My own
knowledge of botany is so deplorable that I can hardly
tell a rose from a daffodil, and so, as I was obviously
not going to be much good to him in that line, my sole
job was to make a map of the country we went through,
and pray to Heaven that it would bear inspection
afterwards. When he had asked me about it, I had
replied, cheerily enough, that I could make quite a
respectable map on occasion; but now that I was
definitely going with him the most dismal ideas crept
into my mind, and I began to think of dozens of
things which I might possibly not know how to do

A YOUNG MAN’S FANCY 15

when, the time came. Thereupon I was driven by
my fears to work like a slave with maps and calcula-
tions, theodolites and plane-tables, from the middle
of November 1932, until January the 19th in the
following year, when my boat, the City of Baroda, was
to sail for Bombay. At the last minute I was stricken
with influenza, but shook off the pestilence in time
to go overland to Marseilles, where the ship was due
on the 26th. As it turned out, there had been no
need to hurry, for the boat was held up by fog in the
Channel for three solid days, during which I had to
amuse myself as best I could.

Of all ghastly places in which to hang around,
Marseilles in January is easily the most gruesome. On
the first day, though with no hope of being interested
or even amused, I was taken in an evil-smelling little
boat to the Chateau d’Yf, where, in the company of
a snuffling crowd of school-girls, I was shown the sights,
including the famous hole through which, we were
told, Monte Cristo had crawled to impersonate the
dead Abbe. I asked the old woman who acted as
guide how long after the book had been written that
hole had been dug. She answered gloomily that she
did not know, but that it had formerly been a source of
great revenue to the guides, as people had willingly
paid a franc to creep down it. Unfortunately, some
sporting but buxom lady had once got stuck half-way,
and had suffered so much when being pulled out again,
that it had ever since remained closed to the populace.

Having exhausted the chateau, I climbed to the
top of the transporter bridge over the mouth of the
old harbour, and drank a cup of lukewarm and washy
coffee in a small restaurant there, which battens on the

TIBETAN TREK

unhappy travellers who are driven to clamber up to
it for lack of anything better to do. There was an old
church to see, and then the place was pretty well
cleaned out as far as amusements went. The cinemas
did not open till the evening, and it struck me that it
would be a dreary business sitting and eating all day
long, which is how a good many people were spending
their time. I admired them, but could not compete.
Instead of that, I walked down to the docks and stood
in a large crowd to listen to a Communist orator, who
talked the usual nonsense about taking the money
from the rich and giving it to the poor. I went away
unconvinced by his arguments, but found that one of
his disciples had been practising on me with such
success that I was left stranded with only a miserable
fourteen francs in my pocket. Frenzy gripped me for
a time, but an S.O.S. message to my mother soon
remedied that. Well accustomed to such emergency
calls, she sent more money out to me within four
hours. Its arrival and her sympathetic message were
balm to my soul; but my spirit was broken by that
dreadful city, and I spent the rest of my time there in
mournful retreat, scarcely venturing from the hotel
even for my daily glass of insipid beer. I felt it would
take weeks of good living to remove the cloud of misery
which had enveloped me.

No sooner had I stepped on board the boat, how-
ever, than I felt a new man. I stood on the deck for
four hours waiting eagerly to see the last of Marseilles,
and when it finally vanished, I knew that all my
troubles were over, and that I was going to have the
time of my life. On the City of Baroda there were only
about thirty passengers, and, with perhaps three ex-

A YOUNG MAN’S FANCY 1 ~]

ceptions, they might have been specially picked out by
Providence, they were such a grand crowd. The
captain and the chief officer were great exponents of
deck tennis as it should be played. Until then I had
looked upon the game as a sort of pat-ball, paying
great attention to the markings of the court, and had
not thought very much of it ; but when I fell into their
hands I was taught differently, and learnt that it was
a magnificent sport. The idea was to fling the quoit as
hard as we possibly could at each other, sending it
backwards and forwards like lightning. No throw
counted as out if it was within reach, even if it was
funked at the last moment. The quoit had to be rope,
of course, because a rubber one bounced too much.
There was more exercise in ten minutes of that game
than in a couple of sets of ordinary tennis.

Apart from the fact that I had a most wonderful time,
and put on a lot of weight through over-eating, the
voyage passed without incident, and on February the
15th, we reached Bombay. Brother Bill’s regiment
(the Royal Irish Fusiliers) was stationed there, and I
had sent him a wireless message to come and pick me
up, but when we docked there was no sign of him for
several hours. He arrived at last in a mysterious green
pork-pie hat, and explained the delay by saying that
they had all moved up to Deolali, about one hundred
and twenty miles away, for manoeuvres, and that he
had had to come down from there to meet the boat.
He had to get back as quickly as possible, so we
hurried away. I had brought out an enormous
Delage for him, which he had enthusiastically pur-
chased second-hand in his last year at Cambridge,
and left behind in England. When he reached India

TIBETAN TREK

and found that there was no tax on horse-power, -he
came to the conclusion that it would be just as cheap
to have it furbished up and brought out to him there,
as to buy another and smaller car in its place. It
looked very smart in its new coat of paint, and after
taking it to a garage to be filled up and generally
put in good order, we started off.

It was half-past seven when we left, and already
dark. The roads were full of snorting beasts (chiefly
buffaloes) which preferred to lumber ahead of us with
waggling ears, rather than to step off the road to
safety. We had never before realised how very funny
a galloping cow could look when viewed from the
south end, but our joy was short-lived. No sooner had
we got beyond the range of civilisation and into a
country where garages no longer existed, than the car
began to misfire on several cylinders at once. Having
no tools of any sort, except a patent gadget to tell which
plugs were not sparking, we could not do much about
it, and affairs went from bad to worse, until, when we
began to climb the Ghats, our maximum speed was
about six miles an hour, performed in a series of
maddening jerks. There were several level-crossings on
the road, and we knew that our only hope of continuing
at all was to find all the gates open ; for once the car
stopped we were done. The worst happened at half-
past one in the morning. We drew up in front of one
of these crossings, and instantly the engine gave a last
despairing cough and petered out. The self-starter
was out of action, and though we nearly broke our
backs trying to swing her, we had no luck. Bill
presently went off to rouse the countryside, coming
back with two desperately frightened Bengali signal-

A YOUNG MAN’S FANCY 19

men, who were in charge of the level-crossing. He
had pressed them into service by telling them that if
they had not left the gates shut, we would never have
stopped, and that it was up to them to get us on the
move again. While he sat comfortably at the wheel,
like a nabob, the three of us heaved and pushed, and
at last made the car run fast enough to start the engine.
We threw the conscripts a rupee, which astounded
them, and wheezed away on our heart-breaking course
to the camp. Two hours later, when still about a
couple of miles from Deolali, we ran out of petrol and
had a long and doleful walk to buy another tin and to
rout out yet more labour to start the Delage. At
last, half dead, we crept into the camp just before
dawn, to find our hut infested with bed-bugs which
robbed us of what little sleep we might have had.
The behaviour of the car was explained the next
morning, when we found that some idiot in the garage
at Bombay had poured half a gallon of oil into the
Autovac by mistake, and how the old thing ever moved
at all remains a mystery to this day.

Brother Bill is a lad who knows how to enjoy life, and
he and his brother-officers gave me a very gay time
during the few days I was with him. A week later I
was enjoying another series of parties in Calcutta,
where I was in a strong position, owing to my having
two married uncles there, on one of whom (H. P. V.
Townend of the I.C.S.) I inflicted myself for a while.
Quite by accident I met Kingdon Ward one day, and
discovered that the party had been joined at the last
minute by B. R. Brooks Carrington, who was coming
along with us to make a natural colour film of the
journey. The original idea had been for us to meet

TIBETAN TREK

in Sadiya in north-eastern Assam; but as we had
found each other in Calcutta, we all travelled; up
together by the Assam Mail a couple of days later.
We took three Tibetans with us, who had been engaged
on our behalf in Darjeeling by Colonel Tobin, the
secretary of the Himalayan Club. Chumbi, the head
servant, was very dashing in a gorgeous coat of yellow
brocade and an old pair of Jodhpurs. He wore a big
gold and turquoise earring, and a pigtail twisted
round a fur hat. He looked childlike and bland, but
later on he became rather trying owing to his love of
strong drink.

Pinzho, the cook, was also dressed in his finest, and
strutted down the platform in a large white beret
adorned with a peacock feather, a voluminous Tibetan
coat of dark red wool, and a kukri. He had served
with the Gurkhas in Kurdistan and Persia during the
War, and was a most excellent servant in every way.
He neither smoked nor drank, and though his cooking
was a bit rough and ready at first, by the time he had
learnt for some months from a brilliant teacher who
shall be nameless, he became quite a chef.

Tashi Tandrup, the man-of-all-work, was squat and
exceedingly ugly. He too had a pigtail, of which he
was very proud. It was lavishly decorated with red
silk tassels, and hung down to his thighs from under a
battered old felt hat. For the rest, he wore an aged
and disreputable tweed coat, and a pair of shapeless
trousers. He was an earnest and hard-working
individual, always on the look-out for a job to do ; but,
though lovable, he was incredibly stupid, and could
safely be relied upon to make a mess of things if left
to himself for more than five minutes at a time.

These three had all been on one or more Everest
Expeditions, and both Tashi and Pinzho had gone
with Professor Dyrenfurth on his attempt to climb
Kinchenjunga.

The journey from Calcutta to Sadiya was not very
exciting. For the whole of the first day and night the
train dashed along over the plains, where there was
nothing whatever of interest to break the monotony,
until early the next morning, when it stopped on the
banks of the Brahmaputra. We clambered out and
embarked on a ferry, with just enough time to have
breakfast on board before we were landed on the
other side at Gauhati, the ancient capital of Assam.
The river is only about a mile wide at that point, and
Kingdon Ward told us that in the flood season it is a
wonderful sight, as it pours through the narrows; but
the water was dead low when we crossed, and there
was not much to see apart from a small school of fresh-
water dolphins which were playing about near the
far bank. We loaded up into another train at Gau-
hati, and were off inside half an hour. Kingdon
Ward left us at Pandu, the next station, and went up
to Shillong with Chumbi to make one or two last-
minute arrangements, while B. G. and I continued our
weary pilgrimage, growing more and more sick of the
train as time went on.

For the next thirty-six hours the line ran through
thick forest, which changed abruptly on the morning
of the third day to mile upon mile of neat tea-gardens,
stretching right up to Saikhoa Ghat, the railhead, a
small and dirty village about eight miles from Sadiya,
on the left bank of the Lohit. "

There had been little comfort on the last part of that

TIBETAN TREK

journey, and B. C. and I climbed stiffly but joyfully
out of our carriage, with the cheering thought that we
would have no more trains for a year. We were met
by Captain Farrell, the Assistant Commandant, in a
decrepit old Citroen which he said he prized above
all else that he had. The servants and baggage were
loaded on to a bullock-cart, and leaving them to their
fate, we climbed into the car and clattered away on the
road to Sadiya. Lurching and swaying, we crawled
over the sand in the dry bed of the Lohit, and crossed
the river on a crazy ferry. It was an amazing craft,
consisting of two native boats (which needed constant
bailing) held together by a platform. Three men
poled it along with bamboos, and the captain wielded
a huge but primitive rudder, swelling with importance
and shouting hoarse commands with hardly a pause.
In spite of the river being low, there was a strong
current, and the ferry started off by creeping up along
the bank for some distance before boldly pushing out
into the stream. After six or seven minutes of furious
effort on the part of the crew, we bumped into the
opposite bank and drove ashore. Five miles meander-
ing along a muddy cart-track led us to Sadiya, the last
town in Assam, a place which has lately become a
thriving metropolis, boasting no fewer than seven
Europeans and about a dozen native shops. The
latter are all built of corrugated iron, and unattractive
to look upon. A constant stream of Hindu pilgrims
and holy men were passing through on their way to
bathe in Brahmakund, a sacred pool which they
stoutly maintain to be the source of the Brahmaputra,
although it is fed by a large and turbulent river.

We shared the Dak Bungalow with Tom Farrell, and

A YOUNG MAN’S FANCY 23

started to work in dead earnest. There were infinite
numbers of things to do, but in our spare moments
we were given a glorious time by Mr. Crace — the
Political Officer — and his wife, who both saw to it that
we were kept thoroughly happy and amused. As a
poor return for their hospitality, we invited them to
dinner with us one night. Pinzho was quite overcome
by the thought of cooking for such a party, and
suffered agonies of nervousness, running in all day long
with possible alterations to the menu, or wild com-
plaints about the quality of the goat which was to be
the chief course. Tashi, although the dinner was no
concern of his, was also affected by the excitement, and
dashed from place to place, gibbering. After all that
fuss, the meal was strangely loathsome, and an abiding
shame to us, although the Craces most nobly pretended
to enjoy it.

B. G. was fully occupied for the next few days in
feverishly overhauling his beloved cameras, and spent
hour after hour on the job, although to less experienced
eyes than his, everything seemed quite perfect already.
Occasionally, with a moan of anguish, he would hurry
over to show me, under a powerful magnifying-glass,
the vaguest suspicion of a scratch on something which
should have been spotless, complaining aloud the
while on the evils of modern workmanship, and the
trials of a photographer’s life.

Kingdon Ward had given me a list of the things he
wanted seen to before he arrived, and I was kept hard
at work repacking baggage, buying stores and arrang-
ing for transport. Rice, flour, potatoes and other
eatables figured on the paper, together with sixty
pounds of “ oil.” This last was my undoing. For

TIBETAN TREK

some dim reason, oil, to me, could only mean cooking
oil, so I had two large tins filled with this useful com-
modity and sent off in advance to a ration dump we
were making half-way up the Lohit Valley. When
Kingdon Ward turned up from Shillong, Crace, B. C.,
and I went down to Saikhoa Ghat to meet him, and one
of the very first things he asked me was whether I had
remembered to buy the kerosene for the lamps.
Somewhat indignantly, I replied that there had never
been any mention of kerosene on the list; but almost
as I said it, the awful truth dawned upon me, and I had
to confess that my thoughts had been running on food
and little else. That was only the first of many
blunders I made. One great blessing was that we had
found out the mistake early enough to put it right, and,
beyond being saddled with a fantastic amount of cook-
ing oil — enough to last us for years — we were none
the worse off.

Among my private possessions was a camp bed, large
strong and comfortable, and the apple of my eye.
Beautiful though it was, it had to be jettisoned before
we left Sadiya. There were two reasons for this. The
first was that everything had to be sorted into loads of
sixty pounds apiece (as that was all the coolies were
able to carry), and my bed did not fit in anywhere.
Kingdon Ward said that the matter could doubtless
be arranged ; but, then, in the second place, B. G. had
not bothered about one, and it seemed to me that it
would be better for the leader alone to have a bed,
rather than that the servants should perhaps differ-
entiate unfairly between B. C. and me, and look upon
him as a poor creature of no account who slept on the
ground like themselves. I finally sold it to Grace for

A YOUNG MAN’S FANCY 25

thirty pieces of silver, a kukri, and an old hat which he
was on the point of throwing away. This Exchange
and Mart business so inspired Tom Farrell that he did
a deal with me for a glorious ruby-red pair of pyjamas
(a relic of my days at Cambridge) which he had long
coveted. In return he provided many boxes of smoke-
coils to discourage mosquitoes and sand-flies, for which
we blessed him later on.

Mrs. Crace took endless trouble in boiling us a noble
ham which Kingdon Ward had brought out uncooked
from England, and which was too big to fit conveniently
into any pot in the establishment. I do not know
how she managed, but when she returned it to us it
might have come straight from the hands of a pro-
fessional ham-cooker. We were also well looked after
by Colonel Dallas-Smith, who was commanding a
battalion of the Assam Rifles which did duty as police
in the district. Besides giving us some very delightful
meals at his house, he presented us on leaving with a
cake, a triumph of cookery, which was far too delicious
to last long.

It was no good taking anything but hard cash with
which to pay the coolies and buy provisions on our way,
for notes are not understood. We had specially strong
boxes made in the bazaar by an old Sikh carpenter
with a fierce white beard, and packed them full of
silver rupees, wedging paper all round so that they
should not chink and so prove a temptation to the
simple native. Sixty pounds weight of rupees does
not take up much room, and, seeing four or five small
cases, new coolies always made a dart for them on the
assumption that they would be the lightest, only to
drop them hurriedly and grab something less deceptive.

TIBETAN TREK

By March the 6th, everything was ready for the
start, and we sent off all but the most indispensable
baggage to Dening, where the road comes to a sudden
end. Crace was going to drive us as far as that in his
car, a matter of about three hours’ run ; but it takes
three days to get there with bullocks. That meant
that we could have an ideally lazy time until the 9th,
with hardly any work at all, while we waited for the
carts to finish their journey.

The night before we left we had a magnificent fare-
well dinner with the Craces — a meal which lived on in
my memory like a blessed dream — and then, early in
the morning, we climbed into the car and were off
at last.

CHAPTER TWO
WET BLANKETS

“ Canst thou draw out Leviathan with an hook? ”

Job xli. i.

Besides the route up the Lohit Valley, there are, as a
matter of fact, two other possible ways from Sadiya
through the mountains into Tibet, but Kingdon Ward
rejected these for the following reasons. The Valley
of the Dibang, or Tsang-po, the main stream of the
Brahmaputra, is the home of the Abors, who would pro-
bably have killed us without hesitation if we had tried
to pass through their country, just as they murdered
Mr. Williamson, the Political Officer, and Dr. Gregor-
son, in 1911. The other possibility, the Dibang
Valley, is almost uninhabited, which would have
meant great difficulty in procuring coolies. So the
Lohit Valley it had to be.

This is inhabited by two clans of Mishmis, the
Digaru and the Miju, which have divided the land
between them, jealously holding on to their own
particular tracts. Some years ago these Mishmis were
quite as nasty to deal with as the Abors are now; but
of late, though they are still surly and unfriendly, they
have learnt to behave themselves more or less. Every
winter numbers of them come down into Sadiya to
find work in the tea-gardens, and strut proudly about

the bazaar selling the skins and roots they have

TIBETAN TREK

collected in the summer. Then in February or
March they start back again, spending most of their
wages in the market, on odds and ends like cigarettes,
knives, and, of all odd things, umbrellas. These last
represent the spread of civilisation in the Mishmi Hills,
and it is really rather pathetic to see a warrior coming
along a jungle path arrayed in a warlike outfit of cane
helmet, sword and knife, the whole humbly crowned
with a hideous cheap cotton “ brolly.” This home-
ward migration makes it easier to get hold of coolies
than would otherwise be the case, and we were further
helped by the world-wide slump in trade which made
itself felt even among the Mishmis. Since the planters
were cutting down expenses all round, they could not
employ anything like the usual number of coolies, so
that these tribesmen found themselves without money,
and umbrella-less, and signed on as coolies com-
paratively willingly, considering that, by nature, they
are a most idle lot.

Dening is described as a “ stockade ” on the maps,
and on the way up in the car I had visions of some-
thing romantic like the Block House in “ Treasure
Island,” with loopholes and a palisade. It was a
bitter disappointment, when we rounded the last bend
in the road, to see a dismal little collection of ram-
shackle huts, a Rest House, and a guard-room, scat-
tered about in the open on the hillside. I tried to
cheer myself up by thinking that perhaps this wasn’t
Dening after all ; but there was no mistaking the fact
when the road came to a sudden end, and everyone
climbed out with an air of finality.

The four of us drank the few bottles of beer we had
brought along for the occasion, and ate most of the

( continued an nu

Map i ? Showing Mr. Kaulback’s Outward Route as far as Rima 3 and Route of his Return Journey to Fort Hertz.

{By kind permission of the Royal Geographical Society)

WET BLANKETS 29

cake, after which Crace wished us good luck and
departed with our blessings. About an hour later a
villainous wheezing and clattering was heard coming
along the road. It turned out to be the local bus, a
very patriarch among Fords, which had been hired
for the day to bring along our bedding and servants.
We walked down to see it arrive. Immediately after
it had stopped, and while we were regarding it with
a certain amount of amusement, a tyre collapsed with
a despairing sigh, upon which the driver turned such
a reproachful gaze on us, that we felt almost as
though we were guilty of puncturing it ourselves.
The picture of dark despair, he bound up the wheel
with a frayed piece of rope, and careered back to
Sadiya.

On this stage of the journey we had sixty-five coolies,
of whom no less than sixteen were carrying rice.
There is not enough food grown in the Lohit Valley to
support a large number of people marching through,
so that the coolies have to be given rice, as well as pay.
These sixty-five, men and women, were all recruited
from the Digara Mishmis. and were under the nominal
command of a wizened old rascal called Nimnoo,
who was supposed to be the most influential Headman
among them. This did not mean very much, however,
for the Mishmis are far too independent to pay much
attention to what their Headmen say. They took
rather a supercilious interest in us, all that first day.
Swaggering disdainfully about in front of the Rest
House, and smoking their long metal pipes, they made
us understand as clearly as they could that it was an
act of great condescension on their part to carry our
goods at all, for which we should be properly grateful.

TIBETAN TREK

Among the Mishmis, both sexes wear their hair long
and tied in a bun on top of their heads. The women
stick several long skewers of brass or silver through
their top-knots, and wear a broad tiara-like band of
silver round their foreheads. They dress in very
small, short, sleeveless jackets, fastening with a button
between the breasts, and long skirts down to their
ankles. Most of them have necklaces of thick silver
wire, and they decorate themselves with rupees and
eight-anna pieces, made into buttons and sewn on
their coats. They wear large, embossed, trumpet-
shaped earrings of silver. The men wear a sleeveless
tunic, open down the front, and reaching almost to
their knees, and a small apron about six inches square.
Down to the waist these tunics are a dirty grey or black,
with three or four lines of red and green stitching
behind the shoulders, and the skirts a dull red. Many
of them wear cane helmets, and their dress is com-
pleted by a kind of plaid, which goes found the back
and under the armpits. It is then crossed in front,
and the ends are flung over the shoulders. They
carry long knives, in half-scabbards of wood bound
with brass wire, on their right sides, and often Tibetan
swords on the left. Their last item of equipment
consists of a bag, generally made of plaited bamboo or
fur, which holds their worldly goods, though occasion-
ally we saw cross-bows or ancient muskets. The
women only carry a bag, and no knife. Goitre is very
prevalent among the Mishmis, and especially among
the women, who nearly all show signs of it while still
not more than seventeen or eighteen years old.

At dinner that night we found, to our dismay, that
all our dessert-spoons (we had only three at the best

WET BLANKETS

3 1

of times !) had been left in Sadiya by the servants, so
that the soup had to be drunk out of tea-spoons, a
laborious process and one which we soon discarded
in favour of the more convenient, if plebeian, method
of drinking straight out of the plate. It reminded me
of a time when my brother and I, while spending a few
weeks in a cottage in England, had to eat boiled eggs
with table-spoons, on the day of our arrival.

Our appointments at meal-times were simple to a
degree. We each had one large and one small wooden
platter, a knife, a fork, a tea-spoon, an unbreakable
cup, and a plate to match. A glass jar of jam was
common to all, and there were, besides, two teapots,
one of earthenware and one of enamel. The small
dish was used for soup, and the larger for any other
course there might be. Rice was our staple food, and
our boxes of stores contained for the most part luxuries
of one sort and another — to hearten up the rice — tea,
sugar, jam, and soup cubes. The rice we took along
with us in ration bags, and we had flour in thirty-
pound tins.

We had hoped to leave Dening at ten the next day,
but the coolies themselves did not arrive until almost
eleven, and it was nearly mid-day before the first
batch set off. Like most of the hill tribes in Asia, the
Mishmis carry loads on their backs by means of a strap
going across their forehead; but instead of using
leather or yak-hair, like the Tibetans, they make these
straps out of plaited bamboo strips, which must be
extremely uncomfortable to use, although they do not
appear to notice it. As a matter of fact, it is hard to
see how these people would be able to exist at all
without bamboo, as from it they make almost every

32 TIBETAN TREK

conceivable thing — bridges, bowstrings, arrows, hel-
mets, baskets, houses, and even cooking-pots.

Kingdon Ward had been in the Lohit Valley twice
before, and knew what to expect of the Mishmis, but
even he was gloom-stricken when we found that no
less than twenty-one of our coolies had already become
sulky, and had simply failed to turn up. In the end
we left Chumbi behind to bring them along, and
wandered off with the others to Dreyi. There is an
excellent mule-track from Dening to Dreyi, some
eleven and a half miles in length; but, with their
usual pig-headedness, the natives kept to the old
original path which must have been in existence for
hundreds of years. A grisly path it was, too! I
followed it myself to see what it was like and what we
were going to be in for, later on. Certainly it saved
two or three miles in actual distance, but at what a
cost! When I might have been ambling along up a
gentle slope, if I had had any sense, I found myself
slithering about on a streak of mud which led as
straight as possible, up and down the most amazing
slopes, in and out of ravines, over and under fallen
trees in the forest. By the time we arrived at Dreyi,
I felt as though I had covered nineteen instead of nine
miles, while B. C., who, refusing to be misled, had
come by the mule- track, was still full of life and energy.
Kingdon Ward, of course, was also vigorous; and
indeed I never saw him otherwise, however hard the
march. How the coolies managed with their sixty-
pound loads is a mystery, but they showed no particular
signs of fatigue, and merely gave a grunt as they put
down their burdens at the end of the day.

Dreyi, which consists of a small Rest House and

WET BLANKETS

some five or six native huts, is perched on a little
shoulder, just large enough to hold the settlement.
Both in front and behind, the hillside is so steep that it
feels as though one is half-way up a precipice. A bitter
wind came whistling down the slope at night, making
us truly thankful for the log fire which we kept
burning merrily, if smokily, in the living-room.

Chumbi and the missing twenty-one had not arrived
by nightfall, so we resigned ourselves to halt for a day.
The other coolies, however, with Nimnoo as spokes-
man, gathered round that evening to argue with
Kingdon Ward about the amount of rice they were
receiving as rations. They had been given plenty ;
but a Mishmi’s greatest triumph is to get something
for nothing, and he will talk, threaten, and bluff, till
he is black in the face, if he imagines that there is a
chance of gaining a concession of any kind, however
small. They started the argument by themselves
outside the room, and when they judged that a suitable
atmosphere of disquiet should have been created inside,
they opened the door and came in, breathing fire and
slaughter. Kingdon Ward had a magnificent scarlet
sweater of generous proportions, which he had put on
to baffle the draughts. Seeing him so gorgeously
arrayed, about three-quarters of the malcontents’
bluster instantly died away, and the argument,
though prolonged, was conducted quite peaceably
from then on. The reason for this sudden change was
that a benevolent Government gives long red flannel
dressing-gowns to the most powerful Headmen
amongst these tribes, as a reward for good behaviour,
and to heighten their prestige. Never in their wildest

dreams had the Mishmis imagined that such a garment
c

TIBETAN TREK

as Kingdon Ward’s could exist. When they saw it,
they could only believe that he must be an official of
very great standing, and one it were wiser not to
provoke too far.

From first to last, Kingdon Ward had always to
bear the brunt of such arguments, which took place
with distressing regularity, and, though the magic of
the sweater wore off after a time, his personality
was such that matters were invariably settled quite
amicably after a certain amount of talk. He had the
knack of dealing with these people to an extraordinary
degree, which accounted for the remarkably small
amount of trouble we experienced in the Lohit Valley,
taken all in all.

Mrs. Crace had presented us with a pair of clippers
just before we left, intimating, with tact, that an early
application of these would doubtless relieve us of
trouble later on. The morning after our arrival at
Dreyi, as we sat uneasily watching the coolies searching
each other’s hair, gloomy forebodings crept over us,
and we decided that the time had certainly come to
make use of the gift. Kingdon Ward was the first
victim. Draping him with a towel, in the best pro-
fessional manner, I clipped away with such success
that by the time the operation was over there was
scarcely a hair left on his head. To begin with I had
had no intention of making such a clean sweep of
things, but by the time I had been over his head once,
it looked like a patchwork quilt. Then, in removing
the tufts, I left bald patches, and at last, quiet despera-
tion seizing me, with bold strokes I deftly did away
with it all. At the sight of the fantastically Teutonic
head I had created, I was left weak and helpless with

WET BLANKETS

laughter. Thunderstruck, he regarded the great heap
of hair which littered the floor, and hoarsely calling
for a mirror, gazed into it speechless. F or many days to
come he was never seen without a hat. Day and night
he wore his topee, until once more he could show a
pleasant, if somewhat bristly growth. B. G. performed
the same kind office for me, but with sadly little skill.
Remarking cheerfully that he didn’t quite seem to get
the hang of those clippers, he tore out my hair by the
roots in great chunks, and by the time he had finished,
my patient looked quite attractive in comparison with
me. Somehow things didn’t seem quite so amusing
when I saw the figure of fun he had turned me into,
but I bore my lot with patience and fortitude, so that
never a word of complaint passed my lips. After
narrowly inspecting us, B. C. stated that he had
changed his mind, and that nothing would induce
him to have his locks touched, although he could see
that my hand was itching to be upon him with the
weapon. All the same, having no hair is a grand
feeling (though inclined to be chilly at first), and,
what is more, it saves an enormous amount of fuss and
bother. One of these days, I shall probably pluck up
enough courage to wander, hairless, about London;
but I feel that it is going to take a great deal of moral
strength.

Chumbi and the sluggards arrived in the evening,
unrepentant, and the following day we moved on once
more. The path led up to the top of the Tidding
Saddle, which is only six thousand feet high, but very
steep on both sides.

On coming to the end of the climb, we had a
magnificent view. Looking west we could see far out

TIBETAN TREK

across the plains of Assam. The carpet of dark green
trees was broken here and there by clearings, each with
a few huts, and, fifty miles away, we could see the white
smoke of the little engine which had brought us up to
Saikhoa Ghat just thirteen days before. To the east, we
saw ridge upon ridge of mountains rising up to fourteen
or fifteen thousand feet, everywhere seamed and cut by
dark ravines and valleys. They were covered at the base
with thick forest which stretched up, getting thinner
and thinner, until, above the last tree, appeared the
barren peaks sprinkled with snow. Before us lay the
Tidding Valley, and, after a short rest on top, we
started down to Theronliang, the last Rest House,
some four thousand feet below. Once again I took
the Mishmi path rather than the mule-track, but this
time with a better reason than mere curiosity. One
of my jobs was to check in the coolies at the end of the
day’s march, and it simplified matters very much if I
could arrive before they did, and tick them off as they
appeared.

There is no doubt about it, when going downhill,
a Mishmi path cannot be beaten for speed. This one
went practically sheer down the mountain-side to the
Tidding River, over a bad surface of mud and crumbly
gravel, and was just one long skid from top to bottom.
The Tidding Valley was exactly like an oven. Being
almost completely enclosed, it gets hardly any wind
to speak of, and is open to the sun for eight hours a
day ; but the bungalow on the river-bank was cool and
dark, and I spent a very comfortable hour there
waiting for the coolies to arrive.

Except in the evenings, when we changed into some-
thing warmer, for the next four months we wore cotton

WET BLANKETS 37

shirts and shorts almost every day. Mackintoshes are
very hot and cumbersome, and make marching a
burden, so when it rained, as it often did, we preferred
to get wet, and to change later on when camp had
been made.

That night Kingdon Ward was victorious in another
argument with the coolies, who came to him saying
that they would refuse to take us any further unless
large bribes were handed out. Having the greatest
faith in his powers of persuasion, neither B. C. nor I
was at all worried when the scallywags delivered their
ultimatum ; but it must have been a trying moment
for him, all the same. In the end, however, they
agreed to take us five marches further to Pangam,
where we were due to be met by Jaglum, the most
powerful man on the Upper Lohit. He was going to
take over from Nimnoo and his men, and convoy us
through to Rima, the first town in Tibet. Whatever
trouble Jaglum might give, we felt that our difficulties
were over for five days at least, and went happily off to
bed, lulled to sleep by the river, which rushed past
the bungalow with a noise like the wind in distant
trees. . V.U

We moved off again in brilliant sunshine, coming,
after a mile and a half, to the Tidding Bridge, which
marks the last point of administered country. It is a
simple suspension-bridge hung from two steel cables,
with a foot-path of bamboo slats. It sways wildly as
one crosses, and various coolies came to grief on it,
but luckily without loosing any loads. Once across,
we were literally “ beyond the Pale,” where the
Mishmis are more or less free to do what they please,
and where they pay no taxes, and are subject to no

TIBETAN TREK

more than the very vaguest governmental authority.
In 1912 an exploration column was sent into their
country, for which the sappers and miners built a good
road to beyond Minzong, for a distance of about eighty
miles ; but that has long since been swallowed by the
jungle so completely that, although we occasionally
came across stone revetments and short stretches of
the surface still in pretty good repair, we had to rely
entirely upon Mishmi tracks, even viler than those we
had already sampled. This day we scrambled along
for seven solid hours, up and down, sometimes plung-
ing into the forest, sometimes picking a precarious way
among the immense boulders in the bed of the river,
and at the end of it all we had covered about seven
miles, no more. The boulders proved too much for
B. C., who had always had a weak ankle.

We made camp in the jungle at five o’clock, where
Kingdon Ward and I sat waiting for him, horribly
tormented most of the time by blister-flies, compared
with which the Plagues of Egypt were nothing at all.
These pests bring up blood blisters wherever they get
a chance to nibble, but providentially they go to bed
at dusk. We took a good look at the weather, or
what we could see of it from our camp in the trees,
and, deciding it was going to be a fine night, we made
up our minds not to bother with tents, but to sleep in
the open.

Night came on with no sign of B. C., and at half-
past seven Kingdon Ward took a lamp and went back
to see what had happened. He found him a mile
away with a badly sprained ankle, and making very
slow progress, especially now that it was pitch dark.
W e were all very much afraid that he might be finished

WET BLANKETS

for good, as far as this journey was concerned ; but
although he had to move carefully for the next three
or four days, he kept on, and gradually got better.
As soon as he reached the camp, and had bathed his
foot, we had dinner (soup, ham, and potatoes), and
then, rolling up in our blankets, were soon fast asleep.
The few patches of sky to be seen through the trees
were glittering with stars, the moon was shining, and
everything seemed lovely, when, to our unbounded
indignation, a colossal thunder-storm burst over our
heads at eleven o’clock, soaking us and our bedding
in a twinkling, in spite of the ground-sheets we
hurriedly pulled over ourselves. Seething with rage,
and very uncomfortable, with water dribbling down
our backs and everything wet, we looked enviously
across at the coolies, who were comparatively warm
and dry in their shelters of bamboo and banana leaves,
a few yards away. There was nothing to be gained
by moving, as we could hardly have been wetter if we
had been in a bath, so, with resignation, we turned
over and went to sleep again. Anyway, if it did
nothing else, it taught us a lesson, and it was the last
time we risked sleeping without tents in the Lohit
Valley. The worst part of it all was, that we were
not able to get our bedding properly dry for days
afterwards.

Of course the rain brought out the leeches in large
numbers, and, as a matter of fact, we had them on
every march from then on until we crossed the Lohit
on March 29th. Personally, I find that spiders fill
me with more horror than anything else, but leeches
come easily next in my list of bugbears. It is really
extraordinarily depressing to march through dripping

TIBETAN TREK

jungle and to see, on every hand, leeches stretching out
from the bushes and grass. You have to be constantly
on the alert to scrape them off, or, before you know
where you are, some of them have crawled up your
shorts, through your stockings, or into your boots.
Once there, they choose a good spot, bite, and suck
away until they are swollen and bloated like so many
obscene slugs. They can be scraped off with a knife,
but owing to the nature of the beast, which cunningly
injects something to prevent the blood from coagulat-
ing, you go on bleeding for a long time afterwards — a
messy business, to say the least of it. The Mishmis do
not seem to worry about them particularly, probably
because they are so used to them ; but their legs are
simply covered with old sores, started by leeches and
finished off by flies.

Left to themselves, leeches are purely vegetarian,
and when moving to the attack look thin and
anaemic, though full of the lust for blood. One of
their chief assets is the ability to stretch themselves
out until they are not much thicker than a thread,
when they can easily get through the lace-hole of a
boot, through a stocking, or even up between the
folds of a puttee. It beats me to know how any
animals can exist where there are many leeches, and
the most probable answer is that they cannot do so.
Certainly we saw none at all in the Lohit Valley, except
squirrels and flying-foxes (which live safely perched
in trees), until we had got out of this region. Feathers
may defeat them, but I know that fur does not, from
having seen a dog, which had been out hunting, come
back with leeches all over it, and even in its ears and
nostrils.

WET BLANKETS

Two days after that disastrous night, we came to
the Delei River, which flows into the Lohit from the
north. In 1928 Kingdon Ward had spent some
months with H. Clutterbuck in exploring its valley.
They had tried to cross into Tibet over the Glei Pass,
beyond the source of the river, but had been prevented
by the uncomprising hostility of the Mishmis living
at the head of the valley. But this time we wanted to
push on to Rima as quickly as possible, and, beyond
looking with interest, we paid no more attention to it.
Very luckily for B. C. and me, however, one of the rare
occasions on which Kingdon Ward was willing to talk
about himself coincided with our crossing of the Delei,
and we sat entranced at dinner that night while, with
his own particular brand of dry humour, he detailed
some of the things which had happened to Clutterbuck
and him on that expedition.

Where we crossed it, the river was deep, flowing
very swiftly between high, rocky banks, and spanned
by a suspension-bridge, which in the days of its youth
had been much the same as the one over the Tidding
River. One of the steel cables having sagged for some
reason or other, the footpath was suspended from only
one, which made it pretty wobbly, especially as it was
a mere four bamboos wide.

We made camp on a boiling hot afternoon, in a
small meadow on the river-bank, not far below the
bridge. Ten yards from the place we had chosen
was a grove of citrus trees, covered with fruit like huge
lemons. Immediately on arrival, everyone made a
dash to collect the fruit, and before long the only
“ lemons ” left were right at the top of the trees, and
quite out of reach, owing to the thorns. They were

TIBETAN TREK

very sour (my mouth puckers up now when I think of
them), but full of juice, and far better than water for
quenching thirst.

When crossing the river we had seen several mahseer
below us, lazily swimming about in the eddies behind
the bigger rocks. B. C. and I, thrilled by the thought
of a possible glorious piece of fried fish for dinner, set
to work to make some tackle. The first necessity was
a hook, which he cleverly made out of an old nail,
bending it into shape, and making a point and a barb
of sorts, with a file. My optimism faded a bit when
this abomination among hooks was displayed, though,
to be quite truthful, it was really a marvellous piece of
work, considering the material and the tools he had
got. The best line we could manage was five yards of
assorted lengths of string, all different sizes and
colours. It took us about three hours to make our
hook and line, and gradually we felt gloomier and
gloomier as our nightmare apparatus took shape,
though still, mind you, filled with a pardonable pride
— something like parents with a very plain child. But
depressed though we felt, we fixed a ball of dough on
our prong (it was scarcely worthy of the name of
hook!), and sallied forth to the river to try our luck.
While B. G. stood on the bridge, directing the casts by
semaphore and loud cries, I flung the dough hither
and thither into the waters ; but, after a few minutes,
our bait was twitched away by the current, and this
disheartened us so much that we silently returned to
camp with our string and our nail, nor ever again
suggested catching fish until we were once more back
in civilisation.

CHAPTER THREE
THE PROMISED LAND

“ Out taylards of my paieys !

Now go and say your tayled King
That I owe him no thing.”

Romance of Richard Coer de Lion , L 21 12

(Weber, ii 3 p. 83).

Up to this camp on the banks of the Delei River I had
felt that blister-flies were a real burden, but it was
here that we (that is, B. C. and I) got our first baptism
of sand-flies, which are infinitely worse. Kingdon
Ward knew them well of old, and took them very
much as a matter of course. These sand-flies are the
very devil. They are only about the size of a grain of
sand ; but what there is of them must be pretty well
all jaw. As long as you keep moving they don’t
worry you much; but sitting down to rest or to eat
they nip round in clouds, biting like fury whenever
they get a chance. Tiny as they are, they can get
through stockings without any trouble, or into your
hair, and their bites burn like fire, besides itching for
hours afterwards. Sand-flies meant that we had to
change into long trousers and roll down our shirt-
sleeves as soon as we got into camp in the afternoons,
or life would have been unbearable. What is more,
they have no sense of decency, like the blister-flies,
and are ready to stay up all night if there is an oppor-
tunity of getting in another bite or two. However,
bad though the leeches and things were, after a time

TIBETAN TREK

we paid very little attention to them, and they never
spoiled our enjoyment to any great extent.

If a revolution ever sweeps over England, and we all
become subject to the Third International, I think I
shall set to work to earn my living as “ Comrade
Kaulback, Good Plain Tailor.” At least I shall be
able to repair trousers, even if I cannot make them.
This inspiring thought came to me in a flash the
afternoon following our arrival at the Citrus Grove,
where we spent two nights, largely to give B. C.’s
ankle a rest. I sat stitching away at an old pair of
shorts belonging to Kingdon Ward, which had come
rather adrift. Both pockets were missing, they had
only one button, and there was a vast tear in the seat.
A lot of deep thoughts flowed through my head as I
worked. One of them has already been mentioned,
but another was that it was very extraordinary that
I had never been told how difficult it was to sew on
buttons. Lots of people must know about it, and yet
I had never heard a word. Of course I know it is easy
enough to stick a needle through one of the holes in
the button and then to prod it through the cloth.
The snag comes in when you have to push it back
again. With nothing to guide you, minute after
minute is wasted in fruitless stabbing to find the right
place, which is all very distressing. It took me ages
putting on those buttons, quite apart from the other
repairs, and in the end not even my best friend could
have said that the shorts looked beautiful, though in
fairness to myself I must add that they lasted for a
long time afterwards. As Comrade K, I shall use
nothing but those things you shove through and clip.
I think they’re called “ bachelors’ buttons.”

THE PROMISED LAND 45

Mishmis are remarkably inquisitive, and numbers
of them would squat down outside our tents to watch
us shaving or writing, or indeed doing anything at all.
Both here and later on in Tibet, it was difficult to get
any privacy, as even with the tents shut, we would
see the flaps cautiously pulled open an inch or two,
and an eye applied to the crack, until its owner was
driven off by a loud yell of rage. On the occasion of
the tailoring episode, there was the usual little crowd
sitting round me, puffing at their long pipes, and, to
judge by the chuckles, sometimes making unfavourable
remarks about my sewing. When I had finished, one
of them made signs that he would like a needle and
thread for himself, and his example was quickly fol-
lowed by the others. In any case I had no needles
to spare, but in the middle of all this, an uproar arose
fifty yards away, and all mention of sewing was for-
gotten. The noise came from a brawl between one
of our coolies and a local man, who were shrieking
abuse at each other. Just as we got to the scene,
some more than usually offensive remark was the
signal for swords to be drawn, and, crouching like
tigers about to spring, in a deadly silence they began
to move round each other, waiting for an opening.
However, they were quickly seized and held by the
bystanders, and no damage was done, although the
torrents of invective became even worse than before,
as they struggled to get free.

Very luckily, our day of rest was fine and hot, and
we were able to get our bedding more or less dry
again. In the morning when we were breaking camp,
Tashi made himself responsible for packing my
valise and showed me to what heights of efficiency

TIBETAN TREK

he could rise. At the end of the day I found that he
had wrapped up my two towels (both soaking wet
through having been left out the night before) with
my pyjamas, and buried the whole sad little bundle in
my blankets, which once again became wet and
clammy. Though he often did things far worse than
this, he was a most faithful soul, who did his best to be
helpful on every occasion, and he was almost heart-
broken if anything went wrong.

What struck me most about the Lohit Valley was
the amazing steepness of the mountains which rise
almost sheer from the river. The paths wind about
through the forest which covers the sides of the
valley, and most of the way one can see only three
or four yards at a time, owing to a dense under-
growth of great bramble thickets. When one does
come to a clearing, so much does the valley twist and
turn that a view of a couple of miles up or down the
river is quite exceptional. Marching along a path
of slippery mud, dipping in and out of precipitous
nullahs, scrambling under trees and wading through
streams, we never made more than six to eight miles
a day. As this was the dry season, we sometimes
deserted the hillside for a mile or two and took to the
river-bed, which was liberally strewn with the car-
casses of great trees, washed down from Tibet, most
probably, during the last rains. The rapids on the
way down had so battered them that they lay there
without a branch or a vestige of bark left upon them
— no more than white, naked corpses.

At mid-day on March 18th we reached Pangam,
although we would never have realised it if we had
not been told by the coolies, as there was absolutely

THE PROMISED LAND 47

no sign of any village. As a matter of fact, during the
sixteen days we were in the Mishmi country we saw
very few villages anywhere, though there are quite a
number tucked away in the jungle off the main path.
Those we did see consisted of two or three huts, some
forty feet in length, built of bamboo and thatch, and
surrounded by a few patches of buckwheat and maize.
These two crops are the staple foods of the Mishmis,
who are not able to grow rice on account of the steep-
ness of the country. They are so fond of rice, though,
that our coolies insisted on being given a ration of no
less than a pound a day each, and how they managed
to get through it all is a real mystery. A good-sized
rice pudding has only about two table-spoonfuls of
rice in it, so you can imagine what an enormous
mound their ration used to make. With this stodgy
mass they ate buckwheat leaves, chopped up and
boiled like spinach, and sometimes, when they could
find it, a sort of white feathery fungus which grew on
dead trees. They seemed to thrive on all this rice,
and it certainly had no bad effects on their stamina.
On one occasion I had just toiled to the top of an
especially steep and villainous bit of track, and was
taking, as it seemed to me, a well-earned rest, when I
happened to look back down the slope. There, to
my indignation, I saw a diminutive woman with her
heavy load on her back, coming up quite unconcerned
and with apparently no effort. What was even more
galling was that she showed how little she thought of
the hill by cradling her baby in her arms and nursing
it as she came on. Much stung in my pride, I
instantly made off.

When we reached Pangam, the coolies all stopped

TIBETAN TREK

and said that it was now the business of Jaglum and
his men to take us on, and that they would draw their
pay and rations and go back at once. Kingdon Ward
answered that of course they could go back if they
wanted to, but, as they had done only half a day’s
march, they could only expect half-pay and half-
rations. That made them think a bit, and after a
moment or two they decided to finish the day with us,
and we carried on again. Jaglum arrived that even-
ing with a new batch of coolies, and Nimnoo and Co
made haste to return, taking with them several letters
which in course of time trickled in to Sadiya and were
posted from there.

Jaglum was a pretty tough customer, who struck
us as being a man who would stick at absolutely
nothing to gain his own ends. He had a strong,
ruthless face, and his eyes, with straight, heavy lids,
were as coldly merciless as those of an eagle. As a
general rule, it is hard to get a new batch of coolies
on the move, but Jaglum drove them to work with* a
will, and we started off once again at just about the
usual time. After marching for an hour or so, we
turned a corner and found, to our astonishment, that
eight yards of the path were covered to a depth of
two inches by a thick white foamy slime, not unlike
shaving suds to look at. The strip was two yards
wide, beginning and ending abruptly, and was full of
eggs about the size of mustard seeds, most of them a
dull yellow, but some greyish in colour. The natives
knew no more than we what it was all about, so that
we left as mystified as when we first saw it.

The jungle was beginning to get much thinner, and
from time to time we went along through large patches

THE PROMISED LAND 49

of grass and reeds. Having had two or three days of
fine weather, the grass had got long enough for burn-
ing, and all over the sides of the valley were fires,
some of them very big. Fires like this are the greatest
boon to collectors of insects and other small creatures,
since swarms of refugees come running and hopping
in front of the flames, and can be picked up without
trouble. They did not do us much good, however,
as there were hardly any fires within a reasonable
distance of the path, and we had no time to go
rampaging about over the hills to get to them.

Now that there was more open ground, we began
to pass small fields where the most glorious white and
pink opium poppies were flourishing. The Mishmis
run a very profitable business as opium smugglers;
but besides selling the opium, they use it a great deal
themselves as a stimulant, though not as a soporific.
It was a common sight to see our coolies at the start
of a march taking a few whiffs of it mixed with tobacco
from primitive bamboo water-pipes. But the most
astonishing thing about Mishmi cultivation is that
they grow no tea. They have a positive passion for
tea, and were always begging for some from us,
though with no luck, as we had no surplus of stores to
distribute as free gifts. The only logical conclusion
to come to is, that they are too lazy to make a start.
After all, Assam is only next door, where many of
them work in the tea-gardens, and in northern Burma
the Kachins grow it extensively under conditions
quite like those in the Mishmi Hills. Anyway, there it
is, they don’t grow any, and would rather beg for it.

Just as the rest of Europe said of the English in the
time of Richard I, so do the Tibetans maintain that

50 TIBETAN TREK

the Mishmis have tails, and that if you look carefully
you can see the holes in the ground where they stick
them in. I suppose the idea is that they use them as
shooting-sticks. However, look as we might, we
could find no evidence to bear out this interesting
statement.

Shortly after Jaglum joined us, it was just touch and
go as to whether I became a film star or not. B. C.
wanted to get a shot of the coolies crossing the stony
bed of a stream, but they were overcome with stage
fright, and all hung back just out of range of the
camera. I was asked to give them a lead. “ At
last,” I felt, “ my great moment has come. The
whole world will see Ronald Kaulback gallantly
leading a file of savages through a wilderness of
snags and boulders.” When it dawned upon them
that the camera was not going to do them any harm,
the coolies followed like lambs, while I marched,
stern and determined, at the head of the line. I
rejoined the others feeling rather thrilled with life, to
find that the apparatus had jammed just before we
came into view, and so that wonderful picture was
lost for ever.

On March the 23rd we reached Minzong, after seven
and a half hours in the pouring rain, and camped in
a pleasant little clearing on the bank of the river,
where we rested for a day. A tragedy took place on
this march, for one of our precious hens suddenly
died, either through exposure or from sheer pessimism
at the filthy weather. We held a post-mortem on the
corpse, and finding no trace of any malignant disease,
consigned it to the stew-pot. In any event it would
have been killed that evening, and it only antedated

; ^ ^

THE PROMISED LAND 51

its decease by a few hours. It was on that very bird
that I instructed Pinzho in the gentle art of making
curries. Previously his curries had been indistinguish-
able from stews, except that they were served up with
rice; but this fowl made a noble dish, and one of
which any cook might well have been proud.

When the clouds lifted and the rain stopped, we
could see great hills and precipices all around, stretch-
ing, ridge upon ridge, into the distance. It was at
dawn that they were most lovely, with the snowy
peaks lit up by a pink glow, while all the rest of the
world was still in gloom. This snow made things
definitely chilly at Minzong after dusk, as a wind
came sweeping down on us straight off the peaks.
Personally I was quite glad of a sleeping-bag and two
blankets at night, and even then I was not uncom-
fortably warm.

Minzong is at the confluence of the Ghalum and
Lohit Rivers, and the day after our arrival Kingdon
Ward and I went for a short stroll, and found that the
Ghalum is now no more than a little stream some
fifteen yards wide, flowing through a valley about a
quarter of a mile across. The valley seemed ridicu-
lously large for the river, and Kingdon Ward explained
this by pointing out that beyond Minzong the whole
character of the Lohit Valley changed from purely
water- worn to glacial, and that in those far-off days
when a glacier stretched right down to Minzong from
the north, the Ghalum must have been the main
stream of the Lohit, and a comparatively big river.
As the ice receded from the mountains the Ghalum
shrank and the Lohit grew, until matters became as
they are now.

52 TIBETAN TREK

Kingdon Ward proved to be the kindest and most
painstaking instructor it would be possible to imagine,
and I was always picking up new hints from him. He
very soon saw just how little I really knew about the
things that mattered in the sort of life we were leading,
especially those which had to do with the bringing
back of useful information, and except when I was
more than usually unintelligent (thus meriting reproof),
he never showed any sign of impatience at my frequent
questions. For instance, when he said that it was
obvious that the valley became glacial after Minzong,
I had not the slightest idea how to see that, though it
is a thing which I suppose hundreds and hundreds of
people learn while doing geography at school. In
simple words he told me that a valley which had been
scooped out by a glacier was shaped like a U, while
one which had been made by a river was like a V.
This was something quite new to me, and ever
since then I have looked at valleys with a new
interest.

Once again Kingdon Ward was burdened with
coolie trouble. This time it was the local Headman
who made the fuss. He came along and said, point-
blank, that he would produce no transport unless toll
was paid for going through his country. Considering
that the entire countryside benefited from the money
paid out to the coolies, naturally Kingdon Ward
refused to do anything of the kind, and the Headman
went back to the village, threatening that we should
have to sit at Minzong until he got his way. The
next morning many more coolies arrived than we
needed. Whether, seeing that his bluff had fizzled
out, the Headman had sent them himself, or whether

THE PROMISED LAND 53

shortage of money had induced the Mishmis to ignore
his veto, we never discovered.

Leaving this place, the march started off almost
suspiciously pleasantly, as we turned north leading
directly towards Tibet. The path led over delight-
fully level terraces some distance up the side of the
valley— terraces which, centuries ago, were the bed of
the river, and which are now covered with opium
plantations and the inevitable buckwheat. After two
or three hours of this pleasant going, however, we
plunged into the jungle once more, and began the
usual old game of climbing about and scraping under
fallen trees and hanging creepers. We camped on a
patch of sand at the water’s edge, and I pitched my
tent on an attractive little strip of vegetation. When
I woke up, I discovered I had been sleeping on a bed
of figs ! This sort of fig grows only about two inches
high. The fruit is red and the size of a cherry. They
did not taste at all bad.

A couple of days later when we looked out of our
tents in the morning, the rain was coming down so
incredibly hard that Kingdon Ward decided not to
move, and we had a thoroughly slack day, during
which B. C. and I sat in my tent and played Rummy
for various stakes, such as a plate of sausages and mash,
or a pint of beer, all debts to be settled when we got
back. We must have set up a Rummy record that
day. The thought of all the wonderful things we
were going to eat at each other’s expense excited us
so much that we played from seven in the morning
until nine at night, only knocking off for breakfast and
dinner. It got Rummy out of my system to a certain
extent, though. I was never again so keen on it.

TIBETAN TREK

To our great joy, open spaces in the jungle began to
get more and more frequent, and leeches less and less
so ; but what was even more cheering was that on the
afternoon of March the 28th (the anniversary of which
I shall celebrate for evermore) we saw, through the
haze in the distance, the snow peaks of Tibet. The
following day we passed the Boundary Stone, and
found ourselves in the Promised Land.

The Boundary Stone is a large rock on which are
carved two inscriptions. The first of these is in
English, and simply says: “5th Coy. 1st Batt.
K.G.O. Sappers and Miners. 1912.” It marks
the spot where the road they built came to an end.
The other notice is in Chinese, showing the limit of
their claims when they overran Tibet in 1910. A
few miles beyond this stone we crossed the Lohit by
rope bridge, and camped near the Tibetan village of
Tinai. These rope bridges are most interesting and
are great fun to cross. They consist of a single rope
of twisted bamboo stretched across the river. Each
man has a wooden slider, which he slips over the rope,
tying himself on with leather thongs. Then, if the
banks are more or less of a height, he pulls himself
across hand over hand, while if there is a considerable
slope in the right direction he merely lets go and
shoots gaily over with no trouble at all. In this case
the slope was all that could be desired. The trouble
about these bridges is that when there is a train of
coolies with one, it takes such ages to get the whole
lot over. Each load has to be tied on and sent across
separately, and it is astounding what a difference this
makes in time.

Owing to the constant consumption of rice we had

THE PROMISED LAND 55

only fifty-two coolies at this time ; but even so it took
us nearly five hours before everything was safely on
the opposite bank. When my turn came to cross,
being a good bit heavier than anyone else, I took the
precaution of posting three stout Tibetans from Tinai
at the other end to act as buffers, and then, fastening
myself to my slider, I let go. Long before I was over
I was travelling with undreamt-of velocity. The
buffers paled visibly at my approach, but stood their
ground like men. I whizzed into them with a sicken-
ing crash, sent them all flying, and bounded back two
or three yards up the rope before finally gliding to
rest. Shaken to the core, I tottered away. Whether
it was the fault of the old buffers or not, I cannot say
for certain, but from that day forth I had a band of
devoted friends about me whom no amount of
Keating’s could ever discourage.

On the left bank of the river, from Tinai on, there
was a very comforting shortage of trees, so that we
could see for several miles all round. This, coupled
with the fact that there was an equally satisfactory
dearth of Mishmis (of whom we had all grown heartily
tired), made it feel as though we had suddenly stepped
into another and a better world. What was more, the
path improved enormously, and we made good speed
after Tinai to the Dati Falls, where we spent the next
night. These falls are part of a very small stream,
but they are three thousand feet in height, coming
down in three great steps. Unfortunately, being on
the same side of the river as the falls themselves, we
could not get far enough away to see more than the
lowest step; but even that was a lovely sight. The
water fell in feathery shapes which seemed to be

56 TIBETAN TREK

drifting down quite slowly and peacefully, there was
so little apparent movement. I think we had the
best of the Dati Falls. From the other side of the
river their whole height can be seen, I know, but from
that distance they can only appear as a streak of
white “ without form and void.”

So far we had seen no flowers worth speaking about,
but near Kahao, our next stopping-place, Kingdon
Ward found a little clump of sky-blue irises growing
on the bank of a small brook. After three weeks
during which we had seen nothing but greens, browns,
and the white of distant snow, this splash of blue, with
the silver stream bubbling by, looked like Fairyland
indeed.

From Kahao we sent Chumbi on in advance to
Rima to make arrangements for our coming, and
then, giving him a day’s start, we climbed up a
thousand feet over a shoulder and looked down on the
broad, level floor of the Rima Valley, with the Lohit
winding placidly through. Everywhere we could see
herds of cattle and ponies, and in the distance, so well
camouflaged as to be almost invisible, was Rima,
sheltering under the steep, pine-covered hillside.
Here and there were men ploughing the corn-fields
with the wooden ploughs found all over the East,
drawn by a pair of oxen, and patches of brilliant
green pointed to rice. The whole scene spoke of
quiet prosperity.

It was a cloudless day, baking hot in the valley,
and I was some distance ahead of the others when
suddenly I espied a cavalcade of six ponies, three
ridden and three led, coming down a small slope
towards me. It proved to be Chumbi with a couple

The Rope Bridge at Shigatang (p. 54).

THE PROMISED LAND 57

of local Tibetans bringing us steeds to lighten the
burden of the march. They drew up before me with
a flourish, and all dismounted. Chumbi salaamed,
while the other two doffed their hats with both hands,
and, bowing slightly, stuck out their tongues most
pleasantly in the usual lower-class Tibetan form of
salutation. I clambered into an extremely uncom-
fortable wooden saddle, thinly disguised as a padded
seat with red felt nigs, and made ready to ride back
to pick up Kingdon Ward and B. C. Chumbi, who
rather fancied himself as a horseman, boldly tried to
vault into his saddle like a Cossack, but everything
went wrong. The pony moved nervously, his hand
slipped, and he shot wildly through the air, catching
his feet on the beast’s rump, to fall with a heavy thud
on his head. Both he and his dignity were badly
shaken, and his fur hat was jammed over his eyes.
Notwithstanding, his sense of humour was tickled,
and after a little time he laughed as much as the rest
of us.

A few minutes later, with Kingdon Ward at the
head of the troop, we galloped past Rima, and a mile
further on we made an imposing entry into Shigatang.
A crowd of nearly a hundred had gathered in front
of the little temple to witness our arrival.

CHAPTER FOUR
BEES IN THE BONNET

“ They have also very large mastiffs, as big as donkeys, which are
capital at seizing wild beasts.”

Marco Polo.

The Headman of Shigatang came forward and gave
us an official welcome by inviting us into his house for
rest and refreshments. Sitting in his best room on
felt-covered benches, we were served with many cups
of buttered tea, crude rice spirit, and the most delicious
walnuts. This buttered tea seems to me to have been
much maligned. Various people who had tasted it
in Darjeeling and elsewhere had gone out of their
way to warn me against it, but actually it is a most
excellent drink, and deservedly popular in Tibet.
The tea is brought over from China in bricks weighing
about six pounds. A piece is chipped off the brick
and is boiled for some time, after which the liquid is
poured through a plaited cane strainer into a cylindri-
cal churn of wood, in which it is violently mixed with
rancid butter, salt, and soda. It is then decanted
into a large teapot, which is stood on the fire to keep
the brew hot until required. The result is not much
like tea in our sense of the word. It tastes something
like soup, and is very warming and sustaining. Later
on I developed a real passion for it, and found English
tea, when I reached Fort Hertz, a washy sort of drink
with no taste.

BEES IN THE BONNET 59

The Tibetans, in this part of the world at least, are
very fond of meat, and eat it whenever they get the
chance; but although all the villages have pigs and
chickens, they did not seem to kill them very often,
Their staple diet appeared to be rice, buttered tea,
and barley flour in the lower part of the country, and
the same, with the exception of rice, higher up. .They
mix the barley flour into a dough with the tea, and
roll it into grimy little cakes in the palms of their hands,
washing them down with still more tea. They all
carry little bowls about with them, so that each man
has his own cup. Most of these are turned out of
wood, and are graceful and pleasing to look at; but
we saw quite a number of cheap Japanese affairs
used instead, which looked perfectly awful and horribly
out of place. What is more, they were not nearly so
well fitted for the job as the wooden bowls, which
kept the tea hot and did not burn one’s hands or lips.
All the same, they were highly prized by their owners,
who looked on them as valuable curiosities from
foreign parts.

Shigatang itself is no more than a miserable little
village of three houses and some seven or eight huts.
For almost half the year, however, it becomes a place
of great importance, as the Governor of Zayul comes
down in the cold weather from Sangachu Dzong and
takes up his abode there with a large following, which
includes such indispensable people as a silversmith,
a bootmaker, and a large body of Lamas. While at
Shigatang, he collects the taxes from the neighbouring
villages. As a result of this invasion, almost all the
room in the place was already occupied when we
arrived, but after some searching Kingdon Ward was

TIBETAN TREK

6 o

able to find a sort of barn, with a leaky roof, which he
converted into a bedroom. Besides the barn, we
had a very decrepit shack of two rooms which we used
as kitchen and living-room. B. C. and I slept in our
tents in the Headman’s compound, ten yards from the
pig pond. There was a monkey in the compound,
tethered to a post. It had been brought in from
Burma, and was small and unattractive in appearance.
It habitually regarded all who passed with the utmost
malice, and this filled me with compassion. I felt
it had probably been ill-treated and abused, and
made up my mind to give it a good time. With
some difficulty I discovered a walnut and a dried
apricot, and, bearing my gifts, I approached the
beast carefully and cautiously. With every evidence
of delight it sprang upon my arm and ate the apricot,
while a warm glow of friendliness spread through me.
Then, seizing the walnut, it bit my hand savagely to
the bone and made off, gibbering. After that I could
well understand why no one seemed keen to make
friends with it. I looked on it with loathing myself.
B. G. profited by my dismal experience and had
nothing to do with the brute, though he too had felt
like being a good Samaritan at first.

There was always a crowd round our tents, just as
in the Mishmi hills, but the people were very polite
and friendly. It was as though a circus had suddenly
arrived at an isolated village in England, bringing
baboons and elephants. Some of the men had, no
doubt, been down to Sadiya once or twice, and had
seen Europeans there; but to most of them we were
the most exciting thing that had ever happened.
We were not the first white men to visit Shigatang

BEES IN THE BONNET 6l

and Rima, as a matter of fact, for Dundas had been
there in 1903, and Colonel Bailey had come down the
Zayul River from China in 1911 ; but there were very
few of the inhabitants left who could remember
either of these great events.

All the fashionable young men in the district
wore imported felt hats, generally far too small, the
favourite colours being either a light grey or a smoke
blue. Like me, they could see no practical reason for
deforming these hats by making a dent on top, and,
having the courage of their convictions (which I have
not), they accordingly wore them as perfect domes,
perched uneasily on top of their heads. The dress of
both sexes is made from a kind of cloth woven on
looms by the women in the villages from a mixture of
hemp and wool. For both men and women it con-
sists of a long coat which is wrapped round and kept
in place by a sash. These garments would hold two
people comfortably, and are at least a couple of feet
too long. The reason for this is that they can then
hitch them up over the sash and make a huge sort of
pouch all round them, in which food for a journey
and small articles are carried, and even sometimes a
puppy. The extra length comes in useful also at
night, when they undo the sashes, pull their arms
inside, and tuck the coat over their heads and round
their feet till they look like mummies. Occasionally
the women wear a cotton dress underneath the coat,
and the men a pair of cotton trousers reaching half-
way down their calves. They nearly all have long
boots up to their knees, the wealthier ones having
them in leather, and the rest in felt, though some-
times with leather soles; but these they wear only

62 TIBETAN TREK

in cold weather, going about barefooted at other
times.

Shortly after our arrival, immense presents were
sent over by the Governor, in the form of sacks of
walnuts, crushed rice, barley flour, dried apricots,
rice, and baskets of eggs. The fact that many of
the latter were aged and uneatable even when
scrambled, did not lessen their value as gifts. The
day following, Kingdon Ward paid a call on the
Governor, and presented him with a great selection
of goods, including a bottle of rum, an alarm clock,
an electric torch, a pair of binoculars, a cake of soap,
and a towel. These last two were luckily received
in the spirit in which they were given, and without
offence being taken.

The Governor looked about thirty-five years old,
with a hairless, quite good-looking face, and a neat
pigtail wound round his head. Indoors he wore a
black silk Chinese robe. He was decidedly plump,
and explained this (though we did not ask him why it
was) by saying that he unfortunately had to sit all
day long drinking buttered tea with visitors, official
and otherwise. He came of a good Lhasa family,
and bemoaned his fate in having to vegetate in the
wilds of Zayul instead of enjoying the pleasures of
the city.

A few years ago I used to employ my spare time by
playing a balalaika in a Russian orchestra in London
—to the stern disapproval of many of the people
I knew. I had become so fond of the instrument and
of Russian songs and music, that I took it with me on
this journey, and though I did not like to bore the
others by playing when they were with me, I often

BEES IN THE BONNET 63

amused myself on it in my tent or when I was alone.
The fame of this spread abroad ; for on our second
day in Shigatang, the Governor sent a messenger
across to invite me to come and see him and to bring
the balalaika along as well. Pinzho came too, as
interpreter. I was fed with tea and cakes of barley
flour (which is called tsamba), and strummed away
industriously as requested. The Governor was
politeness itself, though I do not for a moment think
he enjoyed the music; but in the intervals of playing
I was subjected to a series of questions which all
tended in the same direction — namely, why had we
come to Tibet at all, when we might have been sitting
comfortably at home. Kingdon Ward, of course, had
already told him that the main idea of the expedition
was to collect flowers; but it must have seemed to
him that no one in his senses would undergo months
of difficult travelling just to get a few plants, which
were not even of use for medicine. I suppose he
looked on me as an easy person to pump, so as to get
at the real truth. His pretended interest in music
was, I am quite certain, solely to give him a first-class
excuse for inviting me to see him. Naturally I could
tell him nothing more than Kingdon Ward had done—
there was nothing else to tell — but it was long before
he gave up hope of worming some dark secret out of
me. He invited me twice after this (with the bala-
laika!), and each time the conversation took the same
trend. After a bit I began to get a complex about the
matter. My one idea was to bring clear evidence of
botanising to light, and to further this end I collected
a pathetic little posy of weeds whenever I was wander-
ing about the valley. These I carried ostentatiously

64 TIBETAN TREK

through the village on my way back before consigning
them to the pig-pond. The only result was that the
children, eager to oblige, followed my example, and
daily brought in bunches of depressed and wilting
flowers to Kingdon Ward. It must have been more
than trying always to be presented with trash like
that, but he never failed to receive the presents
graciously, although as soon as the donors had gone,
they too were cast into outer darkness.

However deep his suspicions, the Governor was
most kind to us the whole time we were in Shigatang,
and indeed, on one day in particular, his hospitality
was quite overwhelming. On that historic occasion
he insisted on giving us two enormous banquets : the
first from two o’clock till five, the second from seven
till close on ten. Lunch started off with the inevitable
buttered tea, Chinese sugar cakes, tsamba cakes, and
walnuts, all these making up a kind of hors d’ oeuvre.
After this we were each given a china bowl of noodles,
chopped meat, egg and mushrooms, and a pair of
chopsticks. In the middle of the table there were
five communal bowls, with shredded pork; green
chillies and meat (this was as hot as fire) ; shavings of
a sort of pickled turnip ; scraps of dried meat ; and
lastly chilli sauce. Then the game started. With
skilful manipulation of the chopsticks we dealt with
our bowls of noodles, dipping into the five other bowls
when we felt like it. No sooner did a dish show signs
of coming to an end than it was filled up to the brim
again by attentive servants, who continually hovered
around to see that we got no rest.

Kingdon Ward was a marvel with chopsticks. He
might have used nothing else all his life, to judge by

BEES IN THE BONNET 65

the way he could handle them. I got into the way
of them gradually, too, though I never rose to his
giddy heights; but to B. C. they remained always
a source of trial and tribulation, so much so that in
the end he gave up the struggle and sent for a fork.
The best method of showing appreciation of the good
food is to make as much noise as possible while eating
it, and here B. C. struck once again. He was covered
with confusion by the magnificent guggling and suck-
ing noises produced by the Governor, Kingdon Ward,
and myself, and, blushing with shame, he tried to
atone for our vulgarity by continuing to eat as
delicately and quietly as if he had been giving a
lesson in the art. He little knew how much fun he
was missing. When a vast number of bowls had been
consumed and we could eat no more, the hors d’ oeuvres
were brought back again, with rice spirit, and
(noble gift) a packet of five cigarettes each, which had
been brought from Sadiya. We had no tobacco of
our own left by the time we got to Shigatang. In the
more cultured parts of Tibet round Shigatse and Lhasa
smoking is definitely not allowed, for the fumes
irritate the Spirits of the Air, who might easily
retaliate by bringing a pestilence on the land.
Accordingly, not liking to prejudice anyone against
us, we had bought just so much tobacco and cigarettes
as would last us to the frontier of Tibet, and no more.
When we got into Zayul we found that everybody
smoked, so we might just as well have stocked our-
selves up in the beginning. Owing to the Governor’s
presence, there were cigarettes to be bought, however,
though they were necessarily very expensive. The
“ Red Lamp ” brand, which in India cost Rs. 1/9 for

66 TIBETAN TREK

five hundred, were now selling at Rs. 10. At home
they would have tasted foul, but out there we thought
them delicious. We bought bamboo tubes of com-
pressed “ tobacco ” as well. It was not real tobacco,
but a mysterious plant with pods. We never saw it
growing, and by the time we got it, it had been so
mashed up that Kingdon Ward could not recognise
it at all. It smoked quite well, but was full of tar and
moisture, and very strong.

By the time the banquet was over, we were pretty
well replete, but we had two hours for the meal to
settle, before starting again. Even so, we cannot be
said to have begun our dinner with the same zest we
had shown over lunch in the afternoon. This was a
pity, as the evening meal was a far more elaborate
affair. It began and finished in the same way as
lunch, but the main course was stupendous. We each
had a bowl of rice, and on the table were no less
than ten dishes, all very excellent. There were
stewed mushrooms ; boiled fungus ; bits of omelette
floating in gravy; green chillies and meat; dried
pork ; bamboo shoots stewed in sauce ; meat balls in
gravy; chopped vegetables and red chillies; strips
of stewed pork; and balls of a sort of hot dough, very
like suet dumplings.

There was no doubt about it, by the time this meal
had been cleared away, I was bloated beyond words.
I do not know about the others, but it appeared to
me that they all showed signs of that lassitude which
invariably follows too much food. It was not alto-
gether our fault. Combined with the attentions of
the servants, who time after time crammed our bowls
with rice, there was always the praiseworthy feeling

BEES IN THE BONNET 67

in our minds that it would be a mean thing to make
our host feel his dinner was not a success, by eating too
little. At last we thanked him kindly, and tottered
off to bed, hoping never to see food again.

The houses in this part of Tibet are all built of
pine-wood, without a nail or piece of metal of any kind
to hold them together. They are extremely well made
of interlocking logs and rough boards fitted into grooves,
and except for the roofs, which are of planks laid
loosely on top of one another, are more or less weather-
proof. Most of them have four or five rooms, and they
stand on piles eight to ten feet high. The space under
the houses is used as stables for the cattle, ponies and
pigs, which make the rooms above highly scented, to
put it mildly. No right-minded Tibetan would
dream of taking a bath — though many of them, and
especially the women, wash their faces every day —
so the fug is increased by a thick odour of grease and
old clothes.

Tibet is the fleas’ paradise, and nowhere do they
enjoy themselves so much as in these houses. I
took to having a regular hunt through my blankets
on waking up every morning, and never failed to slay
at least twelve or thirteen. On one ghastly occasion
I made a bag of thirty-nine ! Rats abound also, and
go dashing about all over one at night; but, in spite
of these drawbacks, the houses are pleasant places,
and though they are sometimes draughty (when the
wind comes whistling through chinks in the wall),
and always filthy, I thoroughly enjoyed living in
them, fleas or no fleas. In any case, they are warm,
as nearly every room has a fireplace of clay, and in
some of the capitalists’ houses there were even shallow

68 TIBETAN TREK

iron fire-bowls which could be carried about to
wherever the heat was most wanted- Chimneys do
not exist, and are not necessary, as an ingenious double
roof lets out most of the smoke quite efficiently.

When the coolies who had brought us along were
paid off at Shigatang, Jaglum and a boon companion
went on a “ blind ” together which lasted for four days.
At rare intervals w r e saw the two of them swaying
about the village with bleary, bloodshot eyes, but most
of the time they were just drinking and sleeping.
Since then I have had more than ordinary respect
for Jaglum. I do not know how he was able to do it.
The only time I tried rice spirit in any quantity I had
such an infernal head the next morning that I wished
I had never been born, although I had not drunk
much. After this party he came round to say good-
bye to us, still looking rather the worse for wear.
B. C. wanted to get a shot of him in his red dressing-
gown, but felt rather depressed about the chances
of the picture because Jaglum would look so gloomy.
We had never seen him show the slightest glimmer of
a smile since he had joined us at Pangam, but King-
don Ward, not to be daunted, made such a brilliant
series of remarks that Jaglum, who understood
Hindustani, was soon convulsed with laughter, in
spite of his hang-over. He departed in a haze of
drink and good-fellowship, and we saw him no more.

For some reason or other, a rumour had spread
abroad that I was a miraculous doctor, and people
came in from all around to be treated. Well, not
only am I no doctor at all, but I had nothing to treat
them with but liver pills. Luckily I had a big store
of these, and gave them round freely. Amazing

BEES IN THE BONNET 69

cures were wrought by this means. Sufferers with
anything from rheumatism to Asiatic sores returned
to say how much better they felt, and I cannot
believe it was all politeness and nothing more. Be
that as it may, on one or two occasions I was even
brought a fee by grateful patients. This generally
took the shape of half a dozen eggs, which duly went
into the larder.

There was not much to see in Rima itself: about
twelve houses, with the usual pigs and hens scampering
round. B. C. went down with Kingdon Ward,
however, to get one or two shots of village life, and
while there a cur of low degree (which was, in ad-
dition, partially bald) took cowardly advantage of
his back being turned, and, creeping up, inflicted a
very nasty bite on the calf of his leg, afterwards
dashing off with such speed that it escaped unhurt.
B. G. had the rottenest luck from beginning to end of
the journey in these matters. If anyone were bitten
or stung, it was always he. I remember distinctly
that later on he was the only one of us to get bees up
his shorts.

B. C.’s accident reminds me that I nearly came to a
frightful end myself at this place. I spent much of my
time in trying to make a map of the valley, and wan-
dering along one day, thinking no harm to any living
creature, I was suddenly espied by a large Tibetan
mastiff, a thing the size of a Saint Bernard, with
a head like an overgrown Chow, and black in colour.
This beast fixed me with a malevolent glare for a few
seconds, while I smiled nervously at it, and made what
I hoped were endearing noises, but to no avail.
Bellowing horribly, it charged towards me, and with

TIBETAN TREK

a sinking heart I prepared to sell my life as dearly as
I could. I had already given myself up for lost when
a brawny fellow, apparently the hound’s master,
dashed out from a bush and grabbed the animal. I
was so relieved that instead of thanking him, I cursed
him roundly for allowing a dangerous creature like
that to come out without a lead. It was not for
some minutes that I realised I was berating him in
English.

Every village has its Mani Pyramid, a heap of stone
slabs, carved for the most part with numberless
repetitions of the sacred formula “ Om Mani padme
hum,” which, being interpreted means, “ Oh, the
jewel is in the lotus.” Sometimes also there are bas-
reliefs of the Buddha carved with great skill, and
coloured in brilliant blues, greens, and yellows. Any-
one carving such a stone and adding it to the heap
gains merit for his next incarnation, as well as the
favour of the Gods in this. There must be millions of
Mani stones in Tibet, representing untold labour
with crude iron chisels.

The Mani Pyramid at Rima is at the main entrance
to the village. I started to examine some of the
carvings, gradually moving round the heap to my
right. I had not gone far before I was touched on
the arm by a voluble old crone whom I had heard
talking excitedly for some time without realising that
she was addressing me. After a bit I gathered from
her graphic signs that there was one-way traffic
round the heap, and that I was going the wrong way.
Afterwards I learnt that one must always go clockwise
round a shrine, or a temple, a cluster of prayer-flags,
or anything holy. The sun goes round clockwise, and

BEES IN THE BONNET 71

so also does the Wheel of Life, to which, according to
Buddhist belief, we are all tied, and to go round a
holy place the reverse way would be to incur the wrath
of Heaven, without a shadow of doubt.

We stopped in Shiga tang for sixteen days, waiting
for the arrival of some “ advance ” baggage we had
sent on from Sadiya a week ahead of us so that it
should be at Rima when we arrived. For some obscure
reason it had been left some miles down on the other
side of the river, and though it kept on turning up in
driblets, it was almost a fortnight before the last box
was brought in. So much for the efficiency of Mish-
mis. We had a very good time, however, while we
waited. The old caretaker of the Temple, who was
very pious, though a confirmed toper, took me to his
bosom in the most amazing way when he found that
I had lived in Darjeeling at one time. It appeared
that he also had been there, together with his wife
who was a toothless and hideous old woman, though
kind. This constituted a firm bond between us,
which was further strengthened when I dosed him
with chlorodyne one night. He did his utmost to
make the time pass pleasantly, and every day brought
round a bottle of rice-spirit, which he put outside my
tent for me to refresh myself with when I woke up.
B. C. liked it better than I, but even so was not too
keen on it. I thought it was foul stuff, though it was
a good thought on the part of the old man. He used
always to invite me into his house (he shared one with
the Headman) when he saw me pass by, and there
refresh me with buttered tea and an excellent sort of
beer made from grain, and called chang. I was then
always subjected to a most exhausting series of personal

72 TIBETAN TREK

questions put in the elementary and very ungram-
matical Hindustani which he had picked up in Dar-
jeeling. The first one was, How many children had
I? and then, as an after-thought, Was I already
married? The questions and their answers were
translated to the circle of friends and relations who
were always present. I would never have thought
there could have been so many amazing queries
about one topic; or such absorbed interest shown in it.
Both he and the old Headman were snuff-fiends,
always tapping away at little round flat boxes of
wood to loosen the snuff inside. They had, to me, a
most original way of taking it. Scooping about a
teaspoonful on to a horny thumb-nail, they sniffed it
all up, and blew it out of their mouths in a yellow
cloud. Their eyes streamed with water, but they
never sneezed. As a matter of fact, snuff-taking is
very prevalent all over Zayul, being just as common
as smoking. In spite of these worldly pleasures, the
villagers were quite as pious as my old friend. Every
morning the air was filled with a gentle droning, like
the distant murmur of a swarm of bees, as they recited
their prayers, all quite independently of each other,
and many of them while doing their morning’s work.
It was a restful sound, and restful also to see the old
men and women squatting cross-legged on the ground,
happily mumbling to themselves, and turning their
prayer-wheels without cease.

The inhabitants of Zayul are supposed to be very
lax in their religion, and even to have adopted beliefs
from the strange jumble of creeds which are found
on their foreign borders, and certainly we never again
saw or heard such evidence of piety as at Shigatang,

BEES IN THE BONNET

once we had left there and had pushed further on.
The reason for this was that ninety per cent, of the
j people in that village were from Sangachu Dzong,

having come along as camp followers in the wake of
the Governor. Although Sangachu Dzong is also in
Zayul, the population is kept to the Faith not only
by its height and its distance from the frontiers, both
' of which tend to discourage intercourse with non-

Tibetans, but also by the presence of a large monastery.

It was not only the Governor who invited us to
i meals. The Headmen of both Rima and Shigatang

did likewise, though naturally the food they gave us
was not a patch on his. But the greatest party of all
was given by the Governor’s girl-friend, who occupied
< one end of his house. This was on April the 16th,

' Easter Day, another hallowed date in my memory.

| She, I may say, also hailed from Lhasa. She was a

most charming girl, slim and quite good looking,
i B. G. did not attend it, leaving the festivities to

Kingdon Ward and myself. There were only three
besides ourselves: the girl-friend, the wife of the
Headman, and a third young woman. I cannot
t remember a great deal about the feast itself, except

that chang and rice-spirit flowed in abundance, and
that the room was very hot and lit up by a red glow
■1: from a fire burning near the table. Later in the

| evening, though, when Kingdon Ward and I were

feeling very cheerful, we suddenly felt the need of
music and song, and sent round a servant to fetch his
ukelele. He delighted the company for some time
j with renderings of “ Old Black Joe ” and “ Swanee

River,” while I did my best to sing in harmony with
j. him. So great a stir did this cause in the village,

74 TIBETAN TREK

that the populace awoke and came crowding in to
join the fun. The party gradually became more and
more enthusiastic, until finally we were requested by
the bystanders to show them how the English danced.
Kingdon Ward felt that exhibition dancing was not
for him, but consented to provide the band with his
uke and a manly baritone, while I obliged with a fine
demonstration of the old-fashioned Charleston. The
spectators were thrilled, and the room became ever
more crowded as the revels went on, until at last,
overcome with exertion and heat, both orchestra and
dancer retired to bed. It was the one occasion on
which I had ever done a solo before an audience, and
our united efforts were a huge success.

The most lovely memory I have of that fortnight
is of a day when I had climbed to the top of a ridge
just behind the village. There I put up a flock of two
or three hundred Yunnan parakeets, which are a
beautiful iridescent green on top and a soft grey
underneath. They looked perfectly wonderful, wheel-
ing and flashing in the sun, suddenly almost vanishing
as they turned their undersides to me, and then
reappearing like so many emeralds. There was a
hawk after them immediately, full of hope, but they
were out of sight before he got one, so whether he
succeeded in the end or not I never knew.

CHAPTER FIVE
NEW GROUND

“ These [rope] bridges are very common in Thibet, and are very
convenient for crossing torrents and precipices; but one must be
accustomed to them. We ourselves never ventured on them.”

Hue and Gabet, Travels in Tartary , Thibet , and China , 1844-1846.

In 1878 an Indian pundit called Kishen Singh, better
known, perhaps, as A-k, left Darjeeling on an amazing
journey which lasted four and a half years. Stopping
first in Lhasa, he then pushed northwards through
Tibet and deep into Mongolia, travelling with cara-
vans of traders, and mapping as he went. On his
way back he kept more to the east, and, after being
several times attacked and robbed by bandits, he
eventually arrived in Rima in the spring of 1882.
He had no money left, but was buoyed up by the
thought that it was only a comparatively short distance
from there into Assam, and that very soon his troubles
would be over. To his consternation, he found that the
Mishmis would allow no one to pass through the Lohit
Valley. There was nothing left for him but to face
the long journey westwards back into Sikkim. Accord-
ingly, and very gallantly, he turned up the valley of
the Rong To Chu, earning his living by reciting
from the Buddhist holy books, and by taking service
with various merchants who were going in his direction.
In November of the same year he reached Daijeeling
with an accurate description and maps of all the

76 TIBETAN TREK

country he had passed through. It was Kingdon
Ward’s plan to follow in the footsteps of this old hero
at least as far as Shiuden Gomba, a large monastery
in the district of Nagong. The last pieces of baggage
turned up on April the 12 th, and on the 18th we
moved on again.

The people of Zayul, or at least those of the part
round Rima and up the Rong To Valley, are not,
strictly speaking, Tibetan, except by nationality.
Rima itself is not five thousand feet high, and no true
Tibetans would consent to live at a height of less
than ten thousand, even though it were pine country.
If they try to live much lower than that, they get
fevers and all sorts of other diseases straight away.
Until quite recently, Rima was used as a penal
settlement, since, being both low-lying and very hot
in the summer, it was looked upon as the most
uncomfortable place in the country. The present
population is the result of intermarriage between the
criminals and the women of the many tribes living
on the borders. They are wonderfully assorted in
height, appearance, and colour; but a good bit of
this colour variation is probably due to different
degrees of dirt. In spite of their doubtful ancestry,
they made on the whole good coolies, and were
friendly to us all the time we were with them. It
was comforting to deal with pleasant polite people
like these, after the surly and supercilious Mishmis.
Until we left Rongyul, in May, we never had the
same lot of coolies for more than one march. In
order to give each village a chance of earning some
money, we could only engage transport from one
stage to the next. It did not really cause any more

NEW GROUND 77

trouble than if we had had the same men all the
time, for word always went ahead to the next village,
and only once were we held up by a shortage of
carriers. The coolie-rate was fixed by the Governor
at five trangkas per man per day, or (since six trang-
kas go to a rupee) about one shilling and threepence.

We had a great send-off from Shigatang. Chumbi
was in his element, bustling round and bullying
everyone who was not in a position to retaliate.
Scared of the Mishmis, he had been very subdued
in the Lohit Valley; but here in Tibet, where he
could speak and be understood, he felt himself to
be a great personage, and, strange to say, he was
accepted at his own standard. Being an educated
man, he had made friends with the Governor, which
gave him a pull to start with, and whenever he might
have been expected to be doing a job of work, he
would be found lazily drinking tea and chatting
with that dignitary. But when the whole village
turned out to see us go off, he took full advantage
of the chances of publicity, and gave an excellent
imitation of efficiency. The real work was done by
Pinzho, who was, as usual, business-like and effective,
and who moved about among the coolies, settling
disputes and getting a move on. Tashi was in a
wild delirium of excitement, dashing madly here and
there, with his pigtail flapping and his mind a seeth-
ing blank; picking up boxes, putting them down
again; muttering vaguely to himself, and generally
having a glorious time. The Governor came out to
say good-bye, dressed in gorgeous raiment; but, for
a hat, he insisted on wearing a blue Homburg
with the price ticket still sewn on the front. He

j8 TIBETAN TREK

probably looked on this scrap of writing as a potent
talisman !

At the last minute the Headman’s wife rushed for-
ward and thrust into my arms a small and hideous
dog, not unlike a deformed pug in appearance, with
one ear perpetually cocked, a wall-eye, and a tooth
which stuck out over its upper lip like the fang of a
dragon. Its collar was of red felt, decorated with
cowrie shells and eight anna pieces. Though sur-
prised at this attention, I thanked the good woman
heartily for what I took to be a tribute to my charms.
Two minutes later she brought along Pinzho as
interpreter, and said through him, that she was glad
I liked the dog, and that she valued it at ios . !
My feelings must have shown in my face, for she
hurriedly added that she would be happy to take
payment in the shape of old tins and perhaps an
empty stores box or two, when we came back again.
Heaven knows how many tins she thought we were
carting about with us. Anyway, that was enough
for me, and I returned the dog, which was worth
ninepence at most, collar excepted.

A mile out of Shigatang, and just below the con-
fluence of the Rong To Chu with the main river,
are two rope bridges, one sloping each way, so that
traffic across the river is easy. Even so we had a
long wait while the baggage was sent over and the
coolies crossed backwards and forwards with bundles
of sliders for the boxes. The Headman, the old
toper, and most of the children in the district came
as far as the bridge with us; but one by one they
melted away as time went on, until not more than
two or three were left when at last we slid over our-

NEW GROUND

selves. After my previous experience with a buffer, I
was not keen to try one again; but as a matter of
fact it was not necessary, as there was so much sag
in the rope that by the time the other side was
reached I was barely moving.

From the moment we set foot on the right bank of
the river, we had the inspiring knowledge that we
were the first white men who had ever been in that
part of the country, and the work of exploring and
making maps really began. It is true that A-k had
brought back a sketch map of the Rong To Valley,
but he had been using a sextant to take latitudes,
and before he got to Rima the mercury had leaked
away from his artificial horizon. After that he was
forced to rely for his map entirely on a prismatic
compass and his judgment of distances. It was
going to be interesting to see how his results, made
in this rough-and-ready way, compared with ours.

Most of the baggage was loaded on pack-animals,
which carried two coolie loads, and Kingdon Ward
had got hold of riding ponies as well.

Looked upon as an experience pure and simple,
there is a lot to be said for riding in Tibet, but as a
recreation it is highly overrated. To start with,
there are the saddles, surely built from the hardest
wood that ever came out of a forest. The seat of
the saddle is made of two rungs about six inches
apart, and no matter how you try to pad them —
with blankets or coats or anything else — these devilish
strips of wood can be felt like the pea in the fairy
story, and always impinging on a bone. Then there
are the stirrups. The Tibetans have a peculiar
practice of riding with their knees half-way to their

80 TIBETAN TREK

chins, and none of the stirrup leathers will ever let
down to a respectable length, so that before very long
you get cramp in both legs. In a frenzy you try
riding without stirrups, and for three minutes or so
things go better; but little by little the saddle seems
to grow even more vilely uncomfortable than before,
and in despair you put your feet in the irons again.
These, by the way, were usually too small for me
to get more than the very end of my toe into, being
built for a crazy people who like to stick their heels
into the stirrups instead of riding sensibly. Add to
all these miseries that the beasts are no bigger than
Exmoor ponies, with a short and jiggling stride, and
it is easy to see why we soon preferred to walk.
We held out for two marches, though — a feat of
endurance not to be despised. Jogging along in this
distressing manner, we made a short march of some
five miles to the village of Sachong, putting up there
at the Traveller’s Rest House.

The coolie stages are from village to village, and
in each stopping place there is a house, at least two
rooms in which are set apart for the use of wayfarers,
who do their own cooking and pay a small fee for
accommodation. The houses have practically no
furniture, though sometimes there is a rough bed-
stead of planks, about two feet high, and every bit
as hard as the floor. Apart from a certain air of
affluence which it gives to a room, the advantage of
having such beds is nil, for fleas and rats can clamber
up without difficulty, and do so with perfect regu-
larity. Honoured patrons of these establishments are
provided with three or four square leather cushions
to sleep on, tightly stuffed with straw, perhaps four

NEW GROUND 8l

inches thick, and almost as hard as the wood itself.
After a long day in the open, however, a hard bed
makes no difference, and we slept like logs from the
moment we lay down until the next morning.

We three were dependent on Kingdon Ward’s
alarm clock. When that buzzed, he would wake up
and shout for Tashi to bring him his tea. After
that Tashi came along and woke B. C. and me with
a like offering. He and I always shared the same
room. It was a marvellous old alarm clock. Origin-
ally it had cost half a crown, as far as I can remember,
but although it had already been on one long journey
with Kingdon Ward, it only let us down once.

In nearly every village we stopped at we were
able to get butter and a fowl or two, and in connec-
tion with these chickens I have evolved a remarkable
theory. This is that at every place some intelligent
individual must be deputed to keep a scientific check
on the age of each bird. This man is then able, on
the arrival of a hungry traveller, unerringly to select
one which is on the point of a natural death from
extreme old age and decrepitude. In no other way
can I find a satisfactory solution to a problem which
baffled me for weeks, namely : Why is it that although
to all outward appearances the fowls we get are no
more aged than other fowls, yet whenever they are
served up for dinner, they are clearly Methuselahs ?
Tough or not, they were a valuable addition to our
diet, and the only meat we could get for some time
after leaving Shigatang.

From Sachong we moved on to Dri, where the
Headman was both inefficient and objectionable,
and where, owing to his slackness in getting hold of

TIBETAN TREK

coolies, we had to spend two nights. In point of
fact, if the villagers had not followed the Headman’s
lead in being obstructive, we would not have minded
this halt at all. The passes beyond Ata could not
possibly be open until the middle of June at the
earliest, so that we had plenty of time and could
stop as often as we liked. In Dri were half a dozen
Mishmis who had spent the winter there, earning
their keep by making baskets and doing other odd
things. It turned out that they were from the Delei
Valley, and had come in over the pass that Kingdon
Ward had tried to cross in 1928. They all recog-
nised him at once with smiles, and seemed to look
on him as an old friend, though they had been
anything but friendly when they had last met him.

Most of the way up the Rong To Valley the path
ran through great pine forests where the trees grew
straight and tall like enormous pillars. We marched
over a springy carpet of turf and old pine needles,
sprinkled here and there with clumps of dwarf irises
of a lovely blue, just tall enough to be seen above
the short grass. The river, never far from the path,
was milky with glacier mud, and becoming ever
more and more so as we went on. Now and then
we came to small shrines set among the trees. Each
consisted of a wooden shelter with low walls, in the
middle of which was a plaster stupa generally coloured
white. The space between the stupa and the walls
was filled with hundreds of little clay domes and
bas-reliefs of the Buddha. Sometimes also there were
tattered prayer-flags pinned to the edge of the roof,
or bullock horns. In view of the sanctity of these
shrines and the fact that no Tibetan would dream of

HEW GROUND

being so sacrilegious as to go round one the wrong
way, it was amusing to see that they thought it no
disrespect to sit down on the walls of the shelter,
or on heaps of Mani stones, if they felt inclined.

In all the villages we had to arm ourselves with
clubs as a defence against the dogs, which were both
fierce and numerous. They had probably learnt
from bitter experience that it was safer not to make
frontal attacks on people, and accordingly four or
five of the brutes, having made a bald-headed rush
at us to weaken our morale as soon as we stepped
into the courtyard of a new house, would quickly
start to skirmish behind us, dashing in at the slightest
opportunity. They were cowardly creatures, how-
ever, and once we had got in a few hearty blows on
some of them, the whole pack would make off to
wait till we were unprepared. Fond as I am of
dogs, I could find nothing whatever in their favour,
and would gladly have seen them all put to a horrible
death, for when walking anywhere near houses, we
had always to be on the look-out for a swift attack
from the rear.

The further we went up the valley, the more of a
peep-show we became. At all hours the doors of
our rooms would be pushed open and one or more
strangers would calmly walk in with engaging smiles,
fingering everything they could lay hands on, but
never trying to steal. At first it was rather a joke to
get all these visitors, but after some days we became
tired of it, and had to improvise locks for the doors.
That kept people out, anyway, though it did not
prevent the curious from peering in through the
many chinks in the walls. Shaving was the biggest

TIBETAN TREK

attraction, and could always be relied upon to draw
a large gallery. Very few Tibetans grow any hair
at all on their faces, and those that do, use a pair of
forceps to pluck out the bristles, one by one. I
think it was the lather that thrilled them most. They
were never tired of discussing it. Nevertheless, I
always had an uncomfortable feeling that in the backs
of their minds lurked the thought that we must be a
very low race to have such hairy faces — almost like
monkeys.

The people in this valley are far less travelled even
than those we had met in Shigatang, and most of
them had never ventured further south than Rima,
where they go yearly to meet the merchants who
gather there in the winter from all over Tibet. They
are extraordinarily backward in all arts and crafts,
relying on the more cultivated western parts of their
country for practically everything except their clothes
and the food they grow. They barter rice and corn
for knives and other metal- work, jewellery, and, most
important of all, salt. There is not a scrap of salt
to be found in the whole province of Zayul. It all
has to be brought from the workings in the Mekong
Valley, and is, as a rule, clay-coloured, though quite
good stuff.

Four stages up the valley we came to Giwang, a
prosperous village standing on a high bluff nearly a
mile from the river. To our dismay we discovered
that one of the boxes of stores was missing when
we arrived. I felt awfully guilty about this, as I
had not checked them since leaving Sachong, so
that we had no idea when it had been stolen. We
sent Chumbi back to see what he could find out,

NEW GROUND

and at last reported the loss to the Governor, who
sent his minions up the valley on a tour of inspection.
The thief turned out to be a native of Dri, where the
people had been so unpleasant, and he was found
out through his stupidity in leaving tins and things
scattered about his house. He was sentenced to ten
years’ hard labour, and the entire village was fined
one hundred and fifty rupees, which was a big
punishment, as there are only about six houses in it.
As the result of the very heavy sentences which are
always imposed for robbery of any kind, there is
practically no theft whatsoever in Tibet. In small
communities such as the Tibetans live in for the
most part, it is almost impossible to get any benefit
from stolen goods without the whole neighbourhood
knowing all about it. If a man suddenly blossoms
out with a new knife, or a bag of money, it is hard
to explain away. He cannot say that his aunt left
it to him in her will, for all his relations live within
a mile or two of his home. Nor can he even have
the pleasure of gloating over his ill-gotten gains in
the privacy of his house, because there is no privacy.
Although there are occasionally a few unsolved
crimes, a system of very severe punishments has the
effect of almost wiping out murder and theft, except
in certain districts where the entire population lives
by banditry. This only occurs in places where the
soil is too poor to produce crops.

All went well at Giwang for the first day. Kingdon
Ward had a tiny little room to himself looking out
on the steep, forest-covered side of the valley, and the
room B. C. shared with me was on the other side of
the house, with large windows which could be closed

TIBETAN TREK

by means of sliding shutters on a cold night. We
had a grand view over the river and up the valley
of a tributary called the Chong Hung Chu. Pleasant
though our dwelling appeared at first, it had its
drawbacks, chief of which was an inferior roof.
We woke up in the morning to find it pouring
with rain outside and very nearly as wet in the room.
Water was steadily dripping down on our bedding,
and the floor was almost awash. With considerable
ingenuity B. C. set to work and devised a fantastic
method of rigging up ground-sheets as awnings over
our beds. When all was finished the place looked
like a design by Heath Robinson. Knotted string
was the main feature, with a background of crooked
sticks, old ground-sheets, and strips of cane. What-
ever they may have looked like, however, these
contraptions did their work nobly for the rest of the
day.

The disaster took place in the middle of the night,
and all because we had forgotten to provide an over-
flow. B. C.’s comer of the room was fairly free of
drips, but while we were sleeping my canopy began
to sag more and more under the vast weight of liquid
which was steadily pouring into it. In the grisly
watches of a hideously raw night, a support suddenly
gave way and a great flood of icy water cascaded
down my neck and into the blankets. Galvanised
into life, I let fly a blistering flow of oaths, and began
to thresh madly about in my bedding to try to escape
the lake. B. C. was roused by the uproar. In the
darkness, hearing curses and the noise of a stmggle
on the floor, he was misled into thinking that I was
being attacked by assassins, and scrambled out of

NEW GROUND 87

bed to come and give a hand. In his excitement
he slipped in a puddle, barked his shins on a box,
and fell flat in the sea. My few remarks were nothing
to his, and I was shocked into a reverent silence
while he explained his views on life in general and
Tibetan houses in particular. When order was
restored we dismally crept back, wet and dripping,
into our blankets to finish a dreary and uncomfortable
night. In the morning we glumly changed our room
for one next to Kingdon Ward’s, where the roof was
more or less water-tight. It is odd that the Tibetans
do not seem to worry very much about rain leak-
ing in. Provided they have a fire they are quite
content to be damp.

On the day of the catastrophe the glorious news
came in that a Mishmi courier, bringing mails from
Sadiya, had arrived at Sachong, and ought to reach
us the following evening. Actually he was also bring-
ing five hundred rupees in silver from our Reserve
Fund, but that was not supposed to be known.
Considerably more money had had to be paid out in
the Lohit Valley than had been allowed for in the
budget, and it was to make up for this that the runner
was bringing along the cash. We were terribly
excited by the thought of getting some letters from
home, and, counting our chickens a bit, we even
made out the menu for a dinner to celebrate the great
event. The bill of fare was as follows: mulligatawny
soup (a Maggi soup cube), curried chicken and rice,
mince-pies, chapatties and jam, to be crowned with
a tot of rum apiece. A marvellous meal. Inci-
dentally, mince-pies were one of my greatest triumphs,
and they looked quite professional. Pinzho did the

88 TIBETAN TREK

actual making of them, but under my instructions.
The pastry was just plain chapa tti, made of flour and
water, but even so it tasted heavenly. We had a few
tins of mincemeat in the stores, and a spoonful of
this put between two layers of pastry, which were
then pressed together round the edges and toasted on
a hot pan, made a wonderful pie. It was sad that
we did not get these dainties that night. To our
bitter disappointment, the courier never turned up.
For a long time, when we came back to the village
in the evenings after our work in the field, it was
always with the feeling that perhaps he had arrived
during the day while we had been out ; but gradually
our hopes sank lower and lower, until at last they
vanished quite away. We made up our minds that
the whole story was simply ~one of those amazing
rumours which crop up from time to time in the
East with practically no foundation, owing to the
natives’ passion for gossip. Later on we had the
dinner as a consolation meal. Tashi, who for some
obscure reason also seemed upset by the affair of
the courier, was consoled by the gift of a pair of my
worn-out flannel trousers, with a hole in the seat.
He was greatly cheered by this; but shortly after-
wards he sold them to Pinzho, who cut down the legs
and used the spare cloth for patches. They might
have appeared quite smart on him had it not been
that the seat of the pants reached down almost to his
knees. Despite this, they were the pride of his heart.
He wore them only in the villages where they could
be properly admired, and never on the march.

The forest above Giwang was filled with red and
white rhododendron bushes, and the most glorious

NEW GROUND

white magnolia trees ; but since they were at a height
of not more than seven or eight thousand feet, the
flowers were already beginning to fade. At low
altitudes they bloom early in the spring, but we
knew that as we got further into the mountains we
should come across them in all their beauty.

For one who is not a botanist, there is nothing
harder than to describe a flower. Through field-
glasses Kingdon Ward had seen, half-way up the
mountain side, a tree with pink blossoms, and was
very keen to know what it was. As he was rather
busy that day, I set out myself to see what I could
do about it. I had a lot of difficulty in finding it,
for once I got into the forest I lost sight of all land-
marks, and when at length I did reach it, it had
such a smooth trunk that I was quite unable to get
hold of a flower or even a leaf. I spent some time in
gazing earnestly at a bloom, some distance above my
head, and then returned to tell Kingdon Ward what
it was like. He said that, to judge by my astounding
description, it could be no known plant, but that,
remembering my enthusiastic mind, he would refuse
to get excited until he saw it for himself. This,
though disheartening at the time, was just as well,
because when I led him to the spot next day it proved
to be no more than a common pink magnolia. This
was my first and last attempt to describe flowers.

However, even if I did not find a new plant, I did
d iscover that the side of the valley was infested with
ticks. On the way back I found more than two
dozen on my legs. Ticks are very difficult to remove
once they have taken a firm hold. If you attack
them by force and try to pull them off, it is most

90 TIBETAN TREK

painful, and even if you are sufficiently Spartan to
put up with the pain and to wrench them away,
they always leave their heads behind, deep buried
with jaws clamped tight, resulting in nasty sores.
We found that the most effective ways of dealing
with them were either to toast them with a match
(which usually meant toasting ourselves as well), or
to cover them with kerosene. The latter method was
slow; but in either case the brutes came off quite
easily. Kingdon Ward and I did more wandering
in the forest than B. C., who had no need to leave
the path, and we found it necessary to baffle the
ticks by wearing pyjama trousers under our shorts,
tucked into our stockings. Kingdon Ward’s were in
beautiful pink and white stripes, and mine in black.
We both looked rather comic, but the natives were
deeply impressed. Even armoured like this, a stray
tick would sometimes manage to get in and wreak
havoc. One morning I woke up to feel a strange
itching on my hip. There, to my horror, I saw a
horribly bloated specimen, swollen to the size of a
small grape, which had been battening on me since
the previous afternoon. Needless to say, it died the
death. Compared with ticks, we became almost
fond of our fleas, which, after all, were gentlemanly
pests, and playful in their habits.

If I had ever thought of it at all, I had imagined
that when Tibetans wanted wood they just went into
the forest and cut down the first tree they saw. It
surprised me to find that the woodcutters followed a
definite system, and that there was never an indis-
criminate chopping down of trees. They chose care-
fully, so that the pine woods near the villages were

NEW GROUND gi

not destroyed, but merely thinned out, while young
trees were allowed to grow up in the vacant spaces.
By so doing they had never far to go to cut wood;
while had they been as unintelligent as I, they would
have been gradually forced to wander further and
further afield, till life became a burden as they
staggered back under their loads of fuel.

When we started from Sadiya we took with us a
sack of potatoes and onions which lasted until we
reached Shigatang, but here at Giwang Pinzho
managed to procure some excellent little peas, the
first green vegetable we had had since we left
civilisation.

CHAPTER SIX

ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS

“ The country is, in fact, so great, that it embraces eight kingdoms,
and a vast number of cities and villages.”

Marco Polo.

After nine days in Giwang, we collected coolies and
moved two stages further up the valley to Sole (which
is not pronounced like the fish, but in two syllables).
The first march was one of four and a half hours to
Mugu, a small scattered village of three houses.
Though our marches in Tibet were generally much
shorter in time than when we had been in the Lohit
Valley, we moved much faster, and covered more
ground, for the paths were quite good on the whole,
and the coolies not so lazy as the Mishmis. The
house we occupied in Mugu was brand new and still
clean, but, as we discovered that night, simply
swarming with rats, which frisked over our bodies
and faces with complete abandon. This was dis-
turbing enough ; but, at half-past three in the morn-
ing, a malevolent rooster perched on the roof just over
our heads, and filled the air with hideous song,
crowing raucously and without a pause until after
six. This I claim to be the world’s record. A swift
vengeance overtook that fowl, however, for we were
able to buy it before we left, to serve as our next meal.
It was poetic justice that the bird which had “ mur-

ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 93

dered sleep ” should, as a curry, renew the strength
we had lost that night. : ^ ;

Sole, where we lived in the lap of luxury, now
became our home for a fortnight. We had a house
all to ourselves, occupying one side of the Headman’s
compound, and — marvel of marvels! — the roof was
entirely waterproof. Almost as soon as we arrived a
tremendous downpour started, which kept on for an
hour and a half, and we could hardly believe our luck
when not a drop came through.

There were Mishmis here as well, three of them,
who said that they had come in from the headwaters
of the Dibang River, the home of the Chulikata (or
Crop-Head) clan. The mysterious thing was that
they called themselves Ka-kungs, and seemed never
to have heard of Chulikatas. They had several times
been to Sadiya by way of Nizam Ghat ; but Kingdon
Ward was certain that no one there had ever heard of
Ka-kungs at all, which made the whole affair even
more strange. They were better and franker-looking
than most Mishmis, though the Tibetans said that
they were a bad lot nevertheless, and not to be trusted
with anything. They had obviously seen the Assam
Rifles in Sadiya; for they used to salute us, with
giggles and loud guffaws, when we passed by. It was
quite depressing to come upon Mishmis in this valley.
On leaving Shigatang, we had breathed heartfelt
sighs of relief at the thought of being free of them at
last ; but, after finding some at Dri, and others there
at Sole, it looked as if we were doomed to see them
everywhere. No one who has not had to come into
contact with this “ ill-conditioned race ” can possibly
understand how much we disliked them, or how

94 TIBETAN TREK

miserable we felt at the thought of always coming
across more wherever we went. However, those at
Sole were actually the last we saw until the return
journey.

The valley was now more than a mile wide, with
steep sides, covered with trees. Each village had its
terraced rice-fields, which were kept flooded by water
brought down from the hills (sometimes from as
much as two thousand feet above the crops) in
aqueducts, built of hollow tree- trunks split in half and
supported on trestles. The water from these flumes
was turned into irrigation ditches, and so led to the
rice. The building of this water-system must have
been a big undertaking for people whose only tools
are knives, hatchets, and adzes, and those not of the
best. B. C. was nearly guilty of sabotage one day,
when he was climbing up to film a waterfall, and I
imagine that in the U.S.S.R. he would have had short
shrift. Half-way to his goal he felt he could do with
a rest, and pulling out his pipe, he leant back com-
fortably but heavily against the aqueduct. Instantly
there came an ominous cracking, and the whole thing
tottered and seemed on the point of collapse. With
cries of alarm, his coolies dashed to the rescue, and
put matters right again, while the wrecker loudly
lectured them in English on the evils of bad workman-
ship. B. G. was the most astounding man with his
hands. He could make or repair almost anything.
What was more, he liked the work, and was rash
enough to say so. After that Kingdon Ward and I
took the utmost advantage of him, and gave him
dozens of jobs, salving our consciences with the
pleasant thought that we were making him happy by

ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 95

so doing. I hope we were, for he never complained.
We gave him everything but stockings to put to rights.
He had the most primitive ideas on darning, which
were a never-ending source of joy to me. His method
was to run a thread round the hole, and then to pull
it tight and knot it. The result was a dismal little
bunch of wool, and the shape of his stocking after he
had done two or three such darns was indescribable.
He stoutly defended this way of doing things by saying
that even if the darns did not last very long, they
were so easy to put in again. But casual though he
was over his stockings, nothing but the most perfect
care and accuracy was good enough for his photo-
graphy or his cameras. He would never consider
taking a picture which might not be first-class, but
once he had decided on one, he would wait for hours,
sometimes in driving rain, in the hopes of having a
few minutes’ sunshine. He was an extraordinary
judge of short distances, and when focussing his
camera he invariably said how far away the subject
was, before measuring with a tape. I never knew
him to be more than an inch out in his estimation.

At Sole, the Headman and his brother might have
been the originals of Tweedledum and Tweedledee,
they were so fat and so much alike. They were
colossal! Both had a half-witted sense of humour,
and their huge bulging faces were always split by
cheerful, if vacuous, grins. Even their brains were
fat. Once a day they migrated ponderously to a
shrine surrounded by prayer-wheels a quarter of a
mile up the road. There they sat, telling their beads,
and chuckling with, two or three of their cronies the
whole afternoon, leading the lives of cabbages, and

96 TIBETAN TREK

thoroughly enjoying themselves. We grew quite fond
of these two fadings. They were the landmarks of
Sole. Had they been missing from their post at the
shrine, we would have felt as though the end of the
world had come. Apart from their daily outing, as a
general rule they did nothing but eat, sleep, drink
chang, say their prayers and giggle. On rare occasions
the Headman would bestir himself enough to give his
son lessons in reading; but long before the work was
finished he would fall into a happy slumber, lulled by
the monotonous repetition of words and phrases.
Incidentally, most Tibetans can read printed charac-
ters, but it is only the Lamas and the educated classes
who can write, or read letters.

Just above the village, among the pines, was a
grassy mound covered with prayer-flags, which
flapped in the breeze at the end of their long poles.
One of the days we spent in Sole was judged pro-
pitious for the erection of a new one, and half the men
in the place turned out to assist at the ceremony,
which lasted for nearly two hours. Cymbals, a large
leather gong, and conches, were first carried out and
arranged in position in front of a Lama. Then, after
a few trial numbers, the orchestra stopped playing,
and a couple of men went off and cut a pole, which
they brought back and put on the ground in front of
the band. The music burst out again with redoubled
vigour, to drive away any evil spirits who might be
hovering round trying to cancel the blessings which
the prayer-flag would bring on the people if success-
fully planted. The gong and cymbals, in unison,
started by beating slowly and heavily, gradually
getting faster and faster, exactly like a train puffing

ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 97

out of a station, while the Lama intoned a prayer.
At the height of the din the conches bellowed, the
choir shouted, and there was a tremendous hubbub,
which quickly died down to an absolute silence before
beginning all over again. At the right moments, the
flag was fastened on, a pit was dug, and at last, while
the noise grew even more frantic, the pole was fixed
in position and all was well. I think the prayer-flag
was put up to ensure a good harvest, because the
entire village was drumming and chanting for a large
part of that night, and though I did not ask about the
flag, Pinzho told me that the singing w r as for heavy-
crops. In any case, demons must have got into the
works somehow, for we had a large amount of rain
at Sole, which cannot have done the corn much good,
though I do not suppose the rice minded.

On the few hot days we did have, the barometer fell
a point to a point and a half between morning and
evening, and rose again at night, which was rather
mysterious. It must have been due to the excessive
heating of the air in the valleys compared with that
on the hills, I think, though I expect to be corrected
before long by some meteorologist who knows all
about barometers and air-pressures and things.

We had taken a folding rubber and canvas boat
with us, in case we had to cross lakes or navigate rivers,
and on May the 9th we took the bags of parts down to
a calm stretch of river, and spent a frightful two hours
trying to put them together. In the end, after an
enormous struggle, victory was ours, and we had an
amusing afternoon careering from one bank of the
river to the other, struggling against a fierce current.
Our amusement was short-lived, however. When we

98 TIBETAN TREK

wandered back to the house, we found that a mes-
senger had arrived with news that the missing courier
had been found, murdered, in a ravine, and that the
mail and money had been stolen. He had left
Sachong in the morning, and, to judge by the signs,
three or four miles further on he had been ambushed
in broad daylight. His throat had been cut from ear
to ear, and the body had been pushed over the edge
of the path to fall into the bushes far below. It was
discovered by a Mishmi woman who was travelling
up the valley with her husband. It was never
decided whether he had been killed for revenge or for
the money. A short time before a Tibetan had been
slain by a Mishmi near Tinai, and it is quite possible
that our man was attacked by some friend or relative
of the victim, on the principle that any Mishmi would
do to wipe out the debt. On the other hand, if the
courier had mentioned that he was carrying five
hundred rupees, that might have been enough to
overcome some tough fellow’s fear of the law. I
have heard tell that in Chicago people can get their
enemies bumped off for as little as £5, so a reward of
£37 10 s. for a murder is princely pay. We had never
so much as seen the mail-runner, but we felt all the
same that he was one of our men, and we were very
depressed about his death. It was rather dispiriting
also to know that our mail had gone, not to mention
the money, which we needed to make us feel quite
safe financially, as coolies were a constant drain on
the purse. The Governor was most energetic in his
search for the criminal ; but in spite of the fact that
he interrogated everyone in the district for miles
around, he was never able to find out who had done it.

ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 99

Some time later, another messenger turned up with
the good news that the letters had been discovered
lying by the side of a path, and that they were at
Shigatang in the hands of the Governor, who was
unwilling to part with them in case they might come
to further harm on the way. Kingdon Ward, there-
fore, decided to fetch them himself, and set off early
the next morning, taking Tashi and Chumbi with him.
In the meantime, B. C. and I moved on, bag and
baggage, to Rongyul, and there we waited for him to
catch us up. When, one afternoon, we heard that he
was in sight, and toiling up the valley, we could
hardly believe our ears. It was only a very few days
since he had left us, and we wondered what on earth
could have happened for him to be back so soon, and
if, by some miracle, he had met the Governor on his
way. I dashed off to meet him, agog to hear the
news, and was stupefied to learn that they had reached
Shigatang in two days and had come back in three.
In other words, they had done in five days what would
normally take thirteen. I do not believe that such a
feat had ever been done before in that valley, and, in
all probability, it will never be done again. We
never knew whether all the letters had been retrieved
or not, but among those which were given to him in
Shigatang was one from the Government of India,
which had been intended to reach us before we left
Sadiya. It said that, as I was not expressly mentioned
by name on the pass, I would on no account be allowed
to enter Tibet. I had, of course, already been in the
country for nearly two months. It is extremely
difficult to get hold of a pass for Tibet, and even if all
goes well it takes several months befomjthe matter is

100 TIBETAN TREK

finally put through. Kingdon Ward had had to
apply in the middle of the summer for his pass, and,
at that time, he had no idea who would be going with
him. Accordingly, the only thing for him to do was
to put on the paper “ Kingdon Ward and Party,”
hoping that this would be sufficient. Since no
objections had been raised by the time we set off up
the Lohit Valley, we had felt that there was nothing
more to worry about in that direction. As soon as he
had read the letter, Kingdon Ward went round to see
the Governor, and asked him, as a special favour, to
give me permission to go as far as the Ata Kang La,
the great pass which divides Zayul from Nagong.
The Governor had been most friendly to us the whole
time, and this fact, coupled with my pleader’s elo-
quence, resulted in the permit being granted imme-
diately. Although it was naturally a heavy blow to
find that I was not able to finish the journey with
Kingdon Ward, it was a big, and unexpected com-
pensation to know that at least I could go as far as
the Ata Kang La. It was typical of him that his first
thoughts should have been of my disappointment and
of how to lessen it.

Having mentioned Zayul and Nagong, it seems a
good opportunity to say something about Tibet in
general. People do not as a rule realise what an
immense country it is. Roughly speaking, it is about
half the size of Europe. On hearing of Tibet, a
picture commonly springs to the mind of a huge,
wind-swept, inhospitable plateau, sixteen thousand
feet high, and uninhabited save for great herds of
antelope and yak. This is only partly true, however,
and refers to the Chang-tang, or Northern Plain,

ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS IOI

which does, as a matter of fact, include nearly half
the country. This has become the traditional idea
of Tibet from the fact that, in the old days, the trade-
route from India to Lhasa was jealously watched to
prevent foreigners from coming in. Since the For-
bidden City was a lodestone which drew many of the
earlier explorers to the country, they tried to reach it
from the north by crossing the plateau, and it is their
descriptions which have now come to typify Tibet as
a whole. Actually, much of the rest of the country,
though not thickly populated, is made up of steep
but fertile and well-watered valleys, producing abun-
dant crops of corn and fruit, and cut off from each
other by ranges of tree covered mountains. Compared
with travel on the Chang- tang, a journey in the River
Gorge country, in which we were, is comfortable
beyond words, for the mountains completely break
that terrible, biting wind which is the curse of the
plateau.

In Rongyul, while Kingdon Ward lived in the
Headman’s place, B. C. and I had a room in the best
house we had seen. It stood by itself, was quite new,
and was built in two storeys. The lower floor con-
sisted of granaries, and the upper was painted red
and had three rooms with latticed windows, which
swung open and shut, instead of sliding in grooves.
The whole house had been built by a most skilful
carpenter from Yunnan, who had settled in the village,
the proud possessor of a saw. He and Kingdon
Ward used to chatter to each other in Chinese, and
he provided us with some very excellent ground-nuts
from his garden. Our bedroom was used as the
dining-room, next door was the kitchen, and the

102 TIBETAN TREK

third apartment we found to be a private chapel, with
a library of books. They were all prayer-books, I
think, but they made a brave show, neatly arranged
in wooden racks. Like all Tibetan books, they were
made of loose parchment sheets some fifteen inches
by six, kept between covers of wood, and held together
either by elaborate metal locks, or by strips of leather
tied round and buckled. In the room was a bench,
fitted up as an altar for three idols. Two of these
were Goddesses, and the other represented one of the
incarnations of Buddha. There was an array of
butter lamps and dishes to hold offerings on the altar,
and two tiny prayer-trumpets, only nine inches long,
which I greatly coveted. The walls were decorated
with charcoal inscriptions and wood-cuts of devils.
The people had no hesitation in letting us use the
chapel as a box-room for repacking some of our things.

The river at Rongyul was about fifty yards wide
and very swift. Shortly after we arrived, B. C. and
I were wandering about on the bank, and we saw a
half-bred yak and its calf being swum across. The
method was simple but effective. The cow was
tugged and pushed by three drovers until she was
standing, rather bewildered, up to her knees in the
water. The calf was then induced to join her, and
was heartened by being given a draught of milk. All
of a sudden the men began to shout and yell, and to
throw boulders into the river just behind the two
beasts. These, much alarmed by the din, struck
madly out into the current, followed by a heavy
volley of stones, and at last, struggling and panting,
they reached the other side a couple of hundred yards
down. I thought the calf was done for, it was making

ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS IO3

such heavy weather, but in the end it also tottered out
on dry land, and both were collected by some more
men who were waiting there, and driven away.
These cattle, like those in India, are singularly devoid
of intelligence, and are easily misled by calf-skins
stuffed with hay. One of these shapeless bundles is
always put down in front of a cow at milking time.
The nit-wit believes it to be her own calf, and licks
it placidly while some old woman gets to work
with a filthy bucket, lined with a thick layer of
stale curds. Without this dummy to fondle, not a
drop of milk is produced by the beast. I felt rather
sorry for the cows at first, as I looked upon the whole
thing as a sad case of defrauding the feeble-minded,
until one evening the effigy came unstuck and hay
appeared in great untidy wads. “ Surely,” I thought,
“ the mother will be horrified at her child’s skin
splitting in this way, and producing hay.” The
unnatural creature, however, took one sniff, and made
a hearty meal, tearing out the stuffing in greedy
mouthfuls, while her offspring grew every minute
more and more flabby and depressed. After that
dismal spectacle it seemed to me that those cows were
made to be deceived, and indeed, that they deserved
nothing else.

It was disappointing not to see a single yak the
whole time we were in Tibet. Yaks do not flourish
at a height of less than ten thousand feet, and all the
cattle in the Rong To Valley are either ordinary cows
and bulls, or the result of cross-breeding between a
bull yak and a cow, or vice versa. The male cross-
bred beasts are called Dzobos and the female Dzomos,
and they are not very exciting to look at. In fact

104 TIBETAN TREK

the only difference between them and common or
garden cattle is that their hair is longer and they have
the very tufted tails of yaks. Proper cows are never
milked on any account, as the people maintain that it
weakens them. They are used only for breeding.
The milk of the Dzomos is used only for making butter
and cheese, and never for drinking or cooking. It is
poured into skins, and shaken energetically up and
down by the women for a long time. The butter
which comes out is very strong in taste, and full of
hairs from the skin, but good. They boil the butter-
milk in shallow pans until it is quite solid, and then
put it out in the sun to dry in slabs. This makes a
strangely brick-like cheese, which needs literally to
be cracked up with a hammer before it can be eaten.
It is pure white, not unlike the vegetable ivory from
which buttons are made, and has very little taste;
but it is supposed to be good food value, and is greatly
prized. It certainly has the advantage of lasting, and
chewing-gum is not in the same street with it. Once
start a meal of cheese in Tibet, and you are kept hard
at it, munching away all day long. Pinzho always
had a little store of it concealed about his person, and
would sometimes produce a small offering for me if
he thought I was hungry. The supply, like Cleo-
patra’s asp, nestled in his bosom, and, when plucked
forth, it was somewhat warm and humid, though
grimly hard as ever.

CHAPTER SEVEN
PERILOUS PATHS

“ I counted two-and-seventy stenches,

; All well defined, and several stinks.”

S. T. Coleridge, Cologne .

« One of my greatest treasures was a glorious poshteen

of yellow sheepskin, with the wool inside and a high
astrakhan collar. This enormous coat was further
embellished by yellow silk embroidery, and altogether
was a delight to the eye. A striking figure, I used to
put it on, from time to time, when the weather was
cold and biting, as much for the peculiar feeling of
satisfaction it gave me, as for its warmth. I started
■ by wearing it first in Shigatang, where it caused an

absolute sensation among the populace, who pressed
forward in throngs to touch it and marvel. The
excitement was increased by a sealskin cap of mysteri-
ous shape, which I had ordered in London just before
leaving, and which I had had no time to have altered
before sailing. Many sizes too big and with a huge
peak, this fantastic hat settled well down over my
face, blotting me out, as it were, and producing an
effect both ludicrous and startling. Largely on account
of this, I developed no great attachment for the mon-
strosity, although I wore it often enough simply
because it kept my ears warm. Kingdon Ward’s
r scarlet sweater and my coat were the only pieces of

gorgeous raiment we possessed in the entire outfit,

105

TIBETAN TREK

106

but by their very beauty they more than made up
for their lack in numbers. Solomon in all his glory
was not arrayed like us, nor can he ever have been
more admired than we were by the Tibetans. The
rest of our clothes were something of a come-down.
They were sombre and dishevelled, growing daily
more pitiful in appearance.

We stopped for seven days in Rongyul, of which
five were as wet and raw as they could be. When
the clouds lifted enough, which they did once or
twice, we could see that the snow on the hills had
come down to as low as nine thousand feet, which
looked bad for our chances of finding the passes open
early. We counteracted the depressing effect of all
this rain and evil weather by a regular nightcap of
hot rum and milk, a most satisfactory drink, which
sent us to bed with a grateful glow inside.

Both at Sole and round this village there were lots
of wild strawberries and raspberries growing, both of
which were excellent. The strawberries were larger
than the wild English variety, and were of two kinds,
red and white. The latter were quite delicious, tast-
ing almost as if they had been mixed up with cream.
The only trouble was that they were such a nuisance
to collect. It was back-breaking work picking them,
and a hundred or so looked a pathetically small heap.
The raspberries were a good size, and full of juice,
but unlike the common type in that they were a
brilliant orange. Apart from these, there were many
fruit trees scattered about in the valley. Walnuts,
peaches, and crab-apples grew in profusion, though
these were, of course, not yet ripe. We had dried
pears and dried apricots given to us in Shigatang,

PERILOUS PATHS 107

but I cannot remember having seen any growing.
The only thing is, that I am certain I would not be
able to recognise pear or apricot trees if I saw them,
so for all I know they may have been growing in
their thousands unbeknownst to me. Vegetables were
hard to come by. We were sometimes able to buy
French beans or peas, but that was about all, and
even they were rare.

Tashi distinguished himself at Rongyul, and per-
formed one of the very few brilliant deeds of his life.
One evening his addled old brain took on a new and
temporary lease of life, and suddenly connected bats
with butterfly-nets. Dashing out while we were
having dinner, he beat the air outside the house, and
brought off a striking capture. He hurried in to
show us his specimen, which, on being extracted from
the net, bit him on the finger. At this he giggled
dimly, and hurried out once more. It was a pastime
he never indulged in again. Fired by his splendid
example, however, I took up this original method of
hunting with avidity; but, though I made countless
wild swoops at my prey, I never got within feet of
one of them, and after two or three days I sickened
of the sport and gave it up.

Rongyul is six thousand eight hundred feet high,
and is the last village in the valley where rice is
grown. Higher up than that the only crops are wheat
and barley. The place has stuck in my memory for
another reason also, which is that it was the only
village we saw in Tibet where the women were quite
fair to look upon. There was one girl in particular,
of about fifteen or so, who was really lovely, and
though it seemed too good to be true, spotlessly clean.

TIBETAN TREK

108

In the face of ribald jests from B. C., I had set my
heart on taking a photo of her, but nothing came of
it. I only saw her twice, both times when it was
pouring with rain, and the sight of her was like a
little ray of sunshine flitting into a dark room. On
the third day she vanished for ever, and I was left
lamenting. It was all very pathetic.

Speaking of this girl reminds me that polyandry is
the fashion in the Rong To Valley. That is to say,
the women have several husbands at once. The
eldest brother of a family will one day decide that it
is high time for him to get married. Some maiden
having taken his fancy, he arranges matters with her
parents and the day is fixed, though she knows nothing
about it. At the appointed time, the bridegroom
waylays the girl, and drags her, kicking and screech-
ing, into his house. A Lama, specially procured for
the occasion, is standing ready with a pat of butter,
which he eagerly smears over her head. To finish
the wedding ceremony he mumbles a few prayers,
and she is then legally married to all the brothers in
the household. It seems hard luck that the younger
ones should have no say in choosing their common
wife, but the system appears to work quite well. In
any case, in most of the villages the women are so
uniformly unattractive that I suppose the men really
do not care very much which one they are landed
with. The whole thing seems rather gloomy to
me.

Tashi’s flash of brilliance took place on the last
night of our stay in Rongyul. On the morning of
May the 24th we moved on again, crossing the river by
rope bridge close to the village, on our way to Modung,

PERILOUS PATHS IOQ

two marches distant. One great point about the
Tibetans is their hospitality. Waiting to see that all
the loads were brought safely over the river, I was
about an hour behind Kingdon Ward and B. C.
When I reached a village called Isa, perhaps a mile
along our road, the Headman dashed out and said
that the others had already honoured his house, and
would I also condescend. I graciously assented, and
was served with a most savoury dish of scrambled
eggs (which had to be eaten with the fingers) washed
down with chang and buttered tea. I do not know
how many eggs were squandered on me, but it was
certainly a large number. Chumbi appeared and
was also fed, and after spending half an hour in this
pleasant way, we left together. Later, it turned out
that he had arrived there with Kingdon Ward, so
that in all probability he had been preying on the
people of Isa for at least an hour and a half before
finally leaving them in peace.

We made a short march of not more than seven
miles, and camped on the river-bank in the pine
forest. Up till then the valley had been compara-
tively free of sand-flies ; but there they swarmed joy-
fully to the attack, and were hardly even daunted by
the fire which was made close beside us during dinner.
The only way we could rid ourselves of them was by
sitting and choking in the smoke. It was a choice
of two evils; but we were saved from having to
decide which to choose by the wind, which, shifting
around from point to point, brought us alternate
minutes of suffocation and irritation. One thing I
will say for those cursed flies, and that is that they
showed a praiseworthy modesty, and never invaded

1X0 TIBETAN TREK

our tents at night after we had once driven them out.
The ejection was performed by burning bits of the
smoke-coils which had been the parting gift of Tom
Farrell.

We broke camp early in the morning, and made a
respectably long journey of seven hours to Modung.
Three or four miles up the river we came to the con-
fluence of the Ata Chu and the Kangri Karpo Chu,
which together form the Rong To. For the last few
miles of its course, the Ata Chu pours down in a
continuous cataract of foaming white water, through
a stupendous gorge. Very narrow, and with vertical
walls of rock towering up some fifteen hundred to
two thousand feet, this is just wide enough to hold
the river, and a most awe-inspiring sight, especially
when seen from the bottom. For half a mile, we
crept along at the foot of the cliffs, edging past huge
boulders, and sometimes wading through the water.
We then crossed the torrent by a suspension bridge
of cane and planks, and had a very steep climb up
ladders of notched logs, and along ledges, almost to
the top of the Gorge. From there we travelled for
some distance along flimsy wooden galleries pegged
to the rock, and up and down more log ladders. All
this made our progress very slow; but it was pleasantly
exciting to see the Ata Chu boiling and swirling far
below, eager to welcome anyone unfortunate enough
to slip from the track. After a while, the sides of
the gorge became less steep, the path sloped down
to within a couple of hundred feet of the river, and
with no further difficulty we reached Modung, a
village of five houses.

Kingdon Ward was lucky, at last, in the choice of

PERILOUS PATHS III

his room, which had a good roof and was very large,
with a fine view of pigs rooting in the courtyard.
He thoroughly deserved some comfort; for he had
had wretched little places to sleep in, ever since we
had started off from Shigatang. Our apartment was
not bad either, but it was inclined to be dark, and it
leaked. There was only one spot on the floor which
was both dripless and large enough for someone to
sleep on. We tossed up for it, and B. C. lost. How-
ever, there was a high sort of table affair, which, I
think, was used as an altar when special services were
held in the house, and B. C. slept under this in con-
siderable comfort. The only drawback was that he
sometimes forgot about it, poor fellow, and hit
himself a stunning blow on the head, to his great
mortification.

B. C. was a most cheery soul. He would frequently
burst into song, one or two of his favourite ditties
being of a ripe old vintage. The one which took my
fancy in particular was the sad story of an unhappy
female who was under the impression that she was
going to be married to a certain Hezekiah Brown, if
I remember right. She describes in moving phrases
how she was there, waiting at the church, when she
found he had left her in the lurch, and, Lord, how it
did upset her! The hitch appeared to be that the
gentleman had already got a wife. I never wearied
of listening to this doleful chant, and at this very
moment I am seized with a longing to hear it
again.

In the report he had made on his journey, A-k
had remarked that the Headman of Modung was
very rich, and it seemed almost like stepping back

into history to find that the present holder of that
proud position, who was probably the grandson of
A-k’s old friend, was also rolling in wealth. He was,
besides, deeply religious, and for the benefit of his
soul he had founded and endowed Getchi Gomba, a
monastery about three miles beyond Modung itself.
He was quite young — about thirty-five, I imagine —
and always wore a short Chinese jacket, which was
so much too small for him that his fat little tummy
stuck out of the gap between this and his other
garments like a football. On hot days, his habit was
to lie back and blow luxuriously on his stomach, in
an endeavour to cool it. This gave him much satis-
faction. He took a great fancy to all of us, and spent
a good bit of his time, when we were indoors, sitting
in our rooms, smiling peacefully and telling his beads.
He never understood in the least what we were doing,
but was perfectly happy nevertheless. He invited us
to dinner on the evening after our arrival, and gave
us a simple but excellent little meal, with lashings of
buttered tea.

The following day was perfectly glorious. Not a
cloud to be seen, and the sky that clear brilliant blue
which seems to keep itself especially for Tibet. In
spite of this, it was a day of tribulation for Kingdon
Ward and me. We both wanted to get some pictures
of the gorge and the suspension bridge, and started
off, full of cheer, back down the valley and along the
galleries. We were accompanied by Chimi, a boy
from Rima, who had taken service with us a couple
of weeks before. It was easy enough to take an end
view of the bridge; but the only possible place to
take it from the side appeared to be a tiny beach on

v% .

iWiiaii

King D on Ward in High Street, Ata (p,

If,

PERILOUS PATHS II3

the far side of the river. We crossed over, and crept
along the bank through a tangled mass of roots and
brambles, until we reached a spot immediately above
our beach. A very steep high bank led down to it,
covered with fearsome nettles between four and five
feet tall, and many gruesome thorns. We were wear-
ing shorts, and I admit I was rather dispirited at the
sight of all these vicious plants ; but Kingdon W ard,
with great courage, plunged into them after no more
than a moment’s hesitation, and I could do nothing
else but follow. Moaning and groaning, we made
the descent, our difficulties being increased ten-fold
by the fact that the bank was covered with holes,
snags, and rotten logs, over which we tumbled and
fell at every other step. Chimi’s skin must have been
like an elephant’s, for these trials of the flesh did not
seem to worry him at all. In fact, he came down
comparatively merrily. As for us, we were stung,
scratched, and embittered, and took our photos in a
dismal silence.

Then came the problem of getting back again. We
would have faced anything rather than those nettles,
and we cast about for a means. Eventually we
decided to try to wade through the shallow water at
the edge of the river, until we found a good place to
get out. We took off our shoes 'and stockings, and
ventured in. At the first step we were struck speech-
less by the icy chill. I would never have believed
that water could be so cold and still remain liquid.
Our misery grew ever more acute. Before long we
found that we had to circumnavigate a large rock,
and, in carrying out this dangerous voyage, the water
came right up to Kingdon Ward’s waist. It was too

1 14 TIBETAN TREK

much! Blue with cold we scrambled out on the
bank, feeling that even nettles were better than that
water. And nettles it was with a vengeance ! Where
we now had to clamber up, they were even thicker
and more evil than before. In the end, we wandered
dejectedly back over the bridge, and sat down on the
other side to refresh ourselves with a nip of rum from
the flask, which, in a prophetic moment, Kingdon
Ward had slipped into his pocket. Some days after-
wards, however, our sufferings were repaid by finding
that, as usual, the photos he had taken were mag-
nificent. Mine were rotten. Kingdon Ward is not
only a very fine photographer, but he has the rare
gift of being able to turn the most commonplace
subjects into really beautiful pictures, as delightful
as they are interesting.

The nettles which grow in that part of the world
have much bigger leaves than the European sort,
and sometimes are as much as eight feet in height.
Their leaves are hideous to look upon, and covered
with spines, which lie in wait for the unwary traveller
to sting him. But though the pain for the moment is
worse than that caused by the English variety, it
does not last so long, and is gone in five or six minutes.
Even so, they are no joke.

After four nights in Modung, we forsook the place
and moved up to Ata, the last village in the valley,
and a very slough of despond. Thick mud and
noisome odours reigned together. To cross the court-
yards of the two houses we were living in, we had to
lay down a causeway of planks. Kingdon Ward and
the kitchen were in the Headman’s house, and B. C.
next door with me. There was a strange mystery

PERI LOUS PATHS 115

about the people of Ata, The population was made
up almost entirely of the very aged and the very
young, with practically none in any intermediate
stage of life. How this was managed was beyond
our comprehension. On sunny days, the Father of
the Village was accustomed to perch, practically
naked, on his roof, muttering darkly to himself, and
looking for all the world like some ghastly old vulture.

The worst tragedy of the journey occurred on the
way from Modung to Ata. On previous expeditions,
Kingdon Ward had always taken two or three pairs
of climbing boots, and had never used more than one.
This time, to cut down weight, he took only one
pair, real beauties. With his own eyes he saw them
packed in a basket before leaving Modung; but,
later on, a coolie, who was clearly inspired by the
devil himself, took the trouble to unpack the basket,
and to balance the boots, with some skill, on top of
a pony. Crossing a bridge, less than a mile from the
start, the beast jibbed and the precious boots slithered
off, to be “ lost evermore in the Main.” It was a
real catastrophe, more especially since Kingdon Ward,
after we had to separate, was going to live at well
above thirteen thousand feet until at least the middle
of the winter, and good warm footwear was essential
for him. The river was coming down great guns,
and there was not the faintest hope of finding the
boots again, although coolies waded about in the icy
water for a considerable time, in case they had got
wedged under a rock. Chumbi, who felt that the
whole thing was his fault, wept during the entire
afternoon. The only thing to be done was for King-
don Ward to take my light marching boots, which

Il6 TIBETAN TREK

were in good order, but a very poor substitute for
the ones he had lost. They were a bit big, too, as
my feet are quite four sizes larger than his, but, with
several pairs of socks, they worked all right, up to a
point. He was not very much better off even then;
for it was obvious that they would not stand much
rough going.

A couple of miles beyond Ata was the foot of a
glacier, which we could see stretching up the valley
until it vanished round a corner at the end. It was
about a thousand yards wide, and ended in a cliff
of ice, from under which rushed the Ata Chu. On
our first afternoon in the village, B. G. wandered off
as far as this point to pick out some shots for the
film. When he reached the ice, he looked up a side
valley, and discovered a magnificent snow peak of
about twenty-two thousand feet, quite symmetrical,
and glistening white against the blue of the sky.
With no other high peaks near, it stood like a giant
among pygmies, most beautiful. It must have been
a thrilling moment for him when he saw it and
realised that he was the first white man ever to have
set eyes on it. The natives called it Chompo, which
is certainly a corruption of Chempo, or “ The Big
One.” I think he was lucky to have seen it; for there
did not appear to be any other spot in the valley, for
several miles, from which it was visible. A few days
later I followed the path, which ran above the glacier,
for four hours, without seeing a sign of it.

Paradoxically, the very foulness of Ata was the
cause of its only claim to beauty. Gorgeous butter-
flies, of all colours, shapes, and sizes, came flocking
out in their legions, on every sunny day, to settle

PERILOUS PATHS 117

and feast on the disgusting muck which filled the lanes
and the courtyards from end to end of the village.
The more lovely the butterfly, the more care it took
to choose an evil-smelling heap of filth, and there
were many such. Our meals were held in Kingdon
Ward’s room, and going over to dinner, after dark,
was a nerve-racking business. It is true that we had
our causeway ; but this was only one plank wide, and
very slippery. Time after time, B. G. and I would
loose our footing in the black of night, and slip, with
an oath, ankle deep into the morass. Before long we
took to having link-boys on our journey to and from
the dining-room, who shuffled ahead with flaring
torches of pine splinters. This looked romantic, with
the shadows flickering weirdly over the cattle in the
compound, and the light shining redly on their eyes,
and on the pools of stagnant liquid which lined the
route; but apart from that we received little benefit.
Those same shadows which gave such a pleasing
appearance to the scene were often the cause of our
undoing, by making it impossible to see what was
wood and what was water. : ■

When we reached Ata it was plain that the moun-
tains at the head of the valley were still deep under
snow, and we had no great hopes of the pass opening
very soon. Nevertheless, it was something of a shock
when the Headman told us, with a happy smile, that
it would be impossible to cross over for at least
another month. Four weeks in Ata was a dismal
prospect, and after a couple of days, therefore, King-
don Ward and I set out to find a camping place
where there would be more to do than in the village.
He went to have a look at the side valley which led

TIBETAN TREK

1 18

up to Chompo, and I followed the main path towards
the pass. While we were out on this job, B. C. was
busy trekking about round Ata and taking films.
My journey was entirely fruitless, as it turned out
that there was no water between the pass and the
village, except in time of thaw, or after rain. King-
don Ward, however, discovered a perfect place for a
camp in the shape of a small Alpine meadow situated
about two hundred feet above another glacier, as
large as the first, which started far up on the slopes
of the great mountain. The meadow was covered
with long grass and bracken, and watered by a stream
which came out of a snow-cone a hundred yards
away. The second glacier was hard to recognise as
such, at first, it was so disguised with rubble, which
had been carried down on to it by landslides and
avalanches. It was only when he looked two or
three miles further up it that he could see the spark-
ling white of the ice. All this was grand news, and
we gave the Headman instructions to have a small
hut built on our new camping-ground. The hut
only consisted of four posts and a roof ; but it was all
we needed, and provided something to eat under if
it were wet. We knew that it would take not more
than two or three days to make; but for the next
six the weather was so appalling that we made no
effort to leave Ata, feeling that a room in even the
smelliest of villages was better than days of unpleasant-
ness in a tent.

In our stores we had a few cherished tins of apple
rings, and some suet, and to celebrate the ist of June
we decided to have an apple pudding for dinner.
The lot fell on me, and I prepared it with the greatest

PERILOUS PATHS Up

care, sparing no efforts to make the dish worthy of
its creator. When all was ready, B. C. sacrificed one
of his handkerchiefs for a pudding-cloth, and the
thing was handed over to Pinzho with strict instruc-
tions on no account to let it go off the boil. What
was my grief to see, when it came in, that it was not
only soggy but coldl Ah me! I doubt if it had
ever been boiled at all. The others gazed on the
shapeless mass, stupefied, and prodded it in a pensive
silence, before setting to work on it like the heroes
they were. That my reputation as a cook was now
gone for ever was bad enough ; but that our jollifica-
tion should have been spoilt like this, nearly broke
my heart. Anyway, the apple was quite good, and
the whole pudding was stodged down at last.

Kingdon Ward was a genius in thinking out ways
for us to pass the hour or so which remained after
dinner before we went to bed. He devised numerous
games of a peaceful nature for our amusement, such
as thinking of all the places beginning with Ab, and
then Ac, and so on, until at the end of a month or
so we had gone right through the alphabet. Cheat-
ing was permitted, but, if both the others agreed that
no such place existed, the one who had produced the
dud lost his next turn. There was a variation of
this, in which, instead of places, the names of famous
people were used; but that soon failed, owing to
the frequent arguments as to who was famous and
who was not. There was also the game of thinking
out all the verbs, whether slang or otherwise, which
sounded like animals or vegetables, such as “ to cow ”
or “ to pare,” and there were dozens of others.
Probably at home these amusements might have

fallen rather flat, as there are so many other things
to think about ; but, out there, they were tremendous
fun. Kingdon Ward was infinitely better at all of
them than B. C. or I, and he invariably scored at
least three to our one each.

CHAPTER EIGHT
CURIOUS CATTLE

A perfect Woman., nobly planned,

To warn, to comfort, and command.’*

Wordsworth.

She was a phantom of delight ,

On June 8th the time came for 'us to move up to our
camp above the glacier, hereafter called Yak Camp.
On the way up we passed a miniature but very fear-
some gorge, where the stream from the glacier, from
being twenty yards wide, poured through a cleft in
the rocks fifty feet high and not more than seven feet
across, a fierce torrent of tormented water. The path
led steeply up through forest to our camp, which was
about nine thousand feet high. The hut was ready,
and we beat down the bracken to make room for our
tents. It was a marvellous setting for a camp. The
small level meadow was bounded on one side by the
wall of the valley, which rose steeply up to the snow,
covered with short grass and rhododendron scrub,
and on the other it sloped sharply down to the glacier.
Looking east over the forest there were white-capped
* mountains, and, at the opposite end, the great dome
of Chompo stood out above the pines. The snag about
it was that it seemed to be the favourite haunt of sand-
flies, who swarmed there in millions wherever we went,
and bit like all the devils in hell. It was not too bad
in our hut, though, because the roof collected the

122

TIBETAN TREK

smoke of a fire we kept burning at meal-times, and
after we had draped ground-sheets round the building,
to make it even more of a smoke-box, it was a bold
fly indeed who ventured in.

The meadow was used as a grazing-place for a
small herd of cattle, which were peaceful beasts,
though curious and inclined to be irritating at night.
It was their custom to move down to investigate the
tents sometime in the small hours, and their progress
round the camp could be accurately followed from
the yells which filled the air as each man in turn woke
to find them sniffing under the flaps, or tripping
over the guy-ropes. In the day-time they were
so eager for salt that, if we walked slowly up to them,
they would crowd round us to lick our hands, until
the human salt-mines were played out for the time
being.

We spent five nights at Yak Camp, and while there
Kingdon Ward was naturally up on the hillside all
day long collecting flowers. B. C. took a lot of
pictures, and was his usual generous self in picking
out suitable subjects for my own camera. I, having
no work of my own to do after the first day, spent
most of the time in wandering along the edge of the
glacier and picking any plants I saw, in the despairing
hope that perhaps sometime one of them might prove
to be a rarity. Not knowing one flower from another,
it is almost needless to say that, day after day, I
brought back rubbish ; but it was good fun, and there
was always the excitement of taking in the bunch
to Kingdon Ward in the evening, and breathlessly
waiting for the verdict. On one great occasion, how-
ever, I did succeed in getting a rhododendron which

CURIOUS CATTLE 123

turned out to be a good one; but at what a cost!
When I reached the camp with it, I was realiy dis-
appointed when B. G. said, in answer to my question,
that my hair had not turned white. It seemed such
an anticlimax. I should like to say that it was
botanical zeal which led to the event, but, truthful as
ever, I cannot. Having reached a spot four or five
miles from the meadow, where the glacier fell down
a steep slope from round a corner, in a tumbled mass
of shattered ice, I wanted to climb up the rock at the
side only to see what lay beyond the bend. To my
unskilled eye, it looked as if the way should be easy;
for although the clifF was almost vertical, there seemed
to be ledges and holes in plenty. With great difficulty
I crept up for about a hundred feet or so, and then, to
my horror, I stuck completely, spreadeagled against
the wall like a squashed fly. I had a crazy notion
that if there were snow underneath me I would risk
it and let go ; but, throwing a frenzied glance below,
I saw no snow, but a frightful crevasse, yawning to
receive me. “ Cussing ’orrid,” and freely perspiring,
I rejected that thought, and decided that, come what
might, my one hope lay above. The next few minutes
were an entire blank, until I found myself, still terrified
out of my senses, sitting on a wide ledge, clasping a
bush as if I loved it, and wondering why I had ever
left England. I traversed back (finding my precious
rhododendron on the way) to an avalanche chute,
down which I slithered on the seat of my pants,
arriving on the edge of the glacier “ bloody but
unbowed.” From my ledge I had had an unrivalled
view of the whole ice-fall, a wonderful sight. For
four hundred feet it poured down at sixty degrees or

TIBETAN TREK

: 124

I so, the whole thing being smashed and wrenched into

the most awful expanse of pinnacles and seracs it is
possible to imagine, but looking in the sunlight as
though all the diamonds and emeralds in the world
had been scattered over it.

! For some time past we had been living chiefly on

‘ rice and tsamba, but while at Yak Camp we had the

chance of buying a pig which was brought up from
Ata. We had glorious visions of succulent pork-
chops when we heard the news, but it turned out to
be a misshapen little beast, with a huge stomach and
? no flesh. All the same, it was meat, and more than

welcome, though after it was killed the atmosphere of
the place did not seem to agree with it somehow,
i In fact, long before it was finished we had to steep it

I perpetually in a strong bath of permanganate, and to

curry it fiercely before it could be eaten at all. We
cheered ourselves by thinking that as venison was
eaten pretty high why not pig? And, anyway,
though strong, it was not bad, and it certainly flavoured
the rice.

I think it was in this camp that Tashi became again
more than usually prominent, this time in the matter
of Kingdon Ward’s boots. In a well-meant effort to
be of service, he had taken these to clean them up a
bit, and returning with them rather late, after their
owner had gone to bed, he did not like to disturb him,
and so left them neatly outside the tent, as in a hotel.
In the middle of the night there chanced to be a
heavy storm of rain, with the natural result that when
Kingdon Ward found them in the morning they were
brimful, and, as boots, horrifying to look upon. Poor
old Tashi ! He was quite the world’s biggest fool, but

CURIOUS CATTLE 125

always struggling to help in every way. He worked
like a slave from morning till night, doing far more
than his share of the work, and unfailingly cheerful
throughout.

At last, much refreshed by our stay in the country,
we returned to town, finding that Ata had one good
point which we had not appreciated before — namely,
that there were no sand-flies. We had sent Chumbi
and the Headman up to Chutong (which is not a
village, but the name of the last camping-ground
south of the pass) to spy out the land, and to see if
there were any chance of our being able to move up
there in the near future. They arrived back, on the
day we returned from Yak Gamp, with a glowing
account of the marvels of the place, and Kingdon
Ward gave orders for another little hut to be built up
there. Chutong being two marches from Ata, the
work would take five days to carry out, and we settled
down in our old rooms for that time. There was great
excitement in the village when we got there, as
apparently a clouded leopard had paid a visit the
night before, prowling around on a tour of inspection,
though without doing any damage. Incidentally we
never saw one of those beasts ourselves. The nearest
approach to it was when we inspected the skull of
one which was nailed up in the house occupied by
B. C. and me. The man who owned it said that he
had killed the animal not far from the village, however.
Summer being well on the way, the glaciers were
melting fast. The river was coming down like a mill
race, and was about two feet higher than when we
had last seen it. There was an extraordinary layer of
mist, some eighteen inches thick, hanging over the

TIBETAN TREK

| 126

j surface of the water like spray, due to the rapid cooling

of the damp air just above the river.

• Ata is famous for its corn, which is bought by

: traders from all over Nagong, and even further afield,

;j and also for the wooden bowls which are turned out

: there from a kind of maple. There were two recipro-

j eating lathes in the village, both very primitive

| affairs ; but the bowls which were made on them were

extremely fine and graceful. These bowls are those
' which I have already mentioned as being used for

i tea and tsamba. The lathes run backwards and

: forwards, driven by a couple of straps attached to long

wooden pedals. A small boy stands on these, and

• leaning on a horizontal bar, works away energetically

j with his legs. A piece of wood is roughly shaped with

j an adze to look something like a bowl, and the crafts-

man, squatting down, fixes this to the end of the
spindle with a lump of bitumen. He has five tools of
iron, on wooden handles an inch and a half across
and three feet long. He rests whichever one he needs
on a block, with the handle held firmly under his right
armpit; the boy starts pedalling, and in fifteen to
twenty minutes the bowl is made. A good one, with
much figuring in the wood, costs three shillings, but
there are inferior specimens to be bought for any-
thing from a shilling upwards. The best Tibetan
tea-bowls are finished with a polish so hard that
boiling water does not have any effect on it; but in
Zayul the people do not know how to do this, and
either rub them up with a little oil to make them look
better for selling, or, more generally, leave them
exactly as they come from the lathe. Ata was the only
village we had seen where wood turning was carried on.

CURIOUS CATTLE 127

After the pig had all been eaten, B. C, and I
resigned ourselves once more to rice, with perhaps an
occasional fowl; but Kingdon Ward suddenly pro-
duced for dinner one evening a most excellent dish as
a surprise. This was of rice and pemmican, and was
perfectly heavenly. The pemmican we carried with
us as cold-weather rations. After that we had it
quite often, and it never failed to taste every bit as
delicious as when it first appeared on the table.

A-k had been told that there was a village called
Suku a few miles up the river which joins the Ata
Chu close to Getchi Gomba. I thought it would be
a good idea to go and see what it was like, and went
off from Ata at ten o’clock one morning to do so.
None of us could recollect how far away A-k had said
it was; but we thought we remembered that the
place was about four miles from the Gomba, and
seven from Ata. The natives gave us such varying
reports that we could make nothing of them. They
do not have any fixed measure, like a mile or a kilo-
metre, and are always very vague about distances.
Kingdon Ward and B. C. were going to the monastery
later in the day to take some pictures, and when I
reached it on my way to Suku, I found the monks
very busy making arrangements for their coming,
and preparing refreshments. I stopped there for a
while, and was plied with rice spirit. When I told
them that I was off to Suku, and was returning to
Ata that night, they were dumbfounded. They
said it was a ridiculous idea, and that if I insisted on
coming back I had much better spend the night with
them. However, still firm in the belief that the village
was only four or five miles away, I declined their

128 TIBETAN TREK

invitation with thanks, and started on my travels
once more.

The path was good, but very steep, climbing up
and down in the most abandoned way. Time went
on and on with no sign of Suku, until I was quite
ten miles from the monastery. Then, to my joy, at
last I saw the village ahead of me, and went into the
Headman’s house for a drink. His was a very grand
place, though there were only four houses in the whole
village, and his entire courtyard was roofed over, and
divided into stalls for the cattle, along the side furthest
from the house. His wife was a fine upstanding
woman, of some thirty summers, with enormous
muscles. She wandered about the house stripped to
the waist, looking like a very Amazon. The Head-
man and everyone else seemed to go in considerable
awe of her, and skipped hurriedly about at her bidding.
She sat me down on a heap of mattresses, and revived
my flagging spirits with many bowls of tea and
tsamba.

They had a patent way of churning their tea there.
Instead of pouring it into a wooden cylinder, they
whipped it up in a large brass bowl with a kind of
swizzle-stick. The result was just the same. I had
never seen this method of doing it before, though after-
wards I found it to be quite common. Having no
money, and feeling bound to offer my host some
return for his hospitality, I presented him on leaving
with my tobacco pouch, which he had been covertly
admiring for some time. He was much gratified, and
we parted the best of friends. There was a lathe in
Suku also.

I left the village at five o’clock, and by travelling

iggif

Looking West from Ghutong (j:

CURIOUS CATTLE I2Q

hard reached the Gomba at half-past seven, just as it
was growing dark. Once more the monks welcomed
me, and fed me on the most superb meat-and-chillie
patties, strongly flavoured with onion. Once more
they pressed me to stay the night; but I felt that
perhaps the others would think that I had fallen
over a precipice or something, so rather wearily I
decided to push on, upon which they charitably lent
me a pony. That beast was a snare and a delusion,
however, as it had no saddle, and its back was as
sharp as any cow’s. After the first mile I came to
the conclusion that I would prefer to walk than
be tormented, and so I led it for the rest of the way.

By this time night had come on in dead earnest,
and it was pitch dark. The last two miles from
Getchi to Ata were through forest over a very narrow
path, where it became quite impossible to see any-
thing. We stumbled along, bumping into obstacles
at every other step. My temper grew shorter and
shorter, as we waded through streams and mud, and,
though sorry for my dismal steed, I felt even sorrier for
myself when every few yards it wandered stubbornly
off the path and got the reins hitched up round trees.
But at last the lights of Ata appeared. We crossed
over the bridge and soon were home, scratched and
bruised, and for my part thoroughly out of sorts.
The first thing the others said when they saw me
was, “ Oh, hullo ! We didn’t expect you to-night.
We thought you’d be stopping at the monastery.’’
Anyway, I had been to Suku, and I now held the
record for the longest day out, of eleven and a quarter
hours. Two days later, Kingdon Ward beat this
easily, by going right back to the suspension bridge at

TIBETAN TREK

130

the end of the Ata Chu Gorge, to see if a certain
flower was yet in bloom. That day he was out for
twelve hours and a half, on the go all the time.

Ata was seized with an attack of religious fervour
shortly before we left for Chutong. A Lama was
imported from Getchi Gomba, who took up his abode
in a small room in our house. The room was fitted
up with a wooden altar, an incense fire, a prayer-
gong, cymbals, a bell, and prayer-books. On the
altar were arranged offerings of dough, made with
tsamba and chang, and mostly coloured pink. The
greater number of them had been shaped with wooden
moulds into little figures of Buddha, or of birds or
animals; but there were some made into four-sided
pyramids. These were models of Gebis, which are
sometimes erected on the roofs of buildings to show
that inside there are images to be worshipped. From
eight in the morning until close on midnight the Lama
chanted without a pause. There he sat, cross-legged
in front of his open book, working the gong and
cymbals in unison with his right hand, while a small
acolyte fed the fire with aromatic twigs. Sometimes
he forsook the gong and cymbals, and rang the small
brass bell with his left hand, while in the other he held
the Dor-je, the Sacred Thunderbolt. Sometimes he
had no accompaniment at all; but as he intoned, he
took up various attitudes of the Buddha, occasionally
clicking his fingers together rather quaintly to keep
off evil spirits. His endurance was amazing. Hour
after hour he chanted, moving nothing but his hands
and arms, his voice now rising to a hoarse shout, now
sinking away to little more than a whisper, while the
air grew ever more pungent with fragrant smoke.

CURIOUS CATTLE I3I

In the morning he invited me in with a gesture, and
I sat with him for more than an hour, watching and
listening. After some time of that chanting and
drumming, I could well imagine a person becoming
semi-hypnotised, and feeling neither fatigue nor any-
thing else. From time to time the Headman dashed
to the balcony outside the chapel window and madly
blew a conch till the valley echoed again. This
ceremony, like that of putting up the prayer-flag, was
for good crops and fine weather. He gave a repeat
performance the next day, and all I can say is that,
after such efforts, he certainly deserved to have his
prayers answered.

At Ata we celebrated the hundredth day since
leaving Sadiya with a most superior dinner of luxuries.
We had soup, and a Service Ration with poached eggs
on top, followed by a tin of Christmas pudding, which
we brightened with a dash of rum. Kingdon Ward
had collected four or five bamboo shoots, which went
very well with the meat course. It was indeed a meal
to remember, and one which would have graced any
board.

The map was brought up to date before we left Ata,
and we found that A-k, working with no instruments
but his prismatic compass, was only ten per cent, out
between there and Rima, which is a striking proof of
the extreme accuracy of his work. I had always had a
very friendly feeling towards him since we had started
to follow his route, and was as pleased as could be
that we were able to prove on this part of his journey,
as had so often been done elsewhere, what a first-rate
man he was at his job.

On June the 20th we set out for Chutong, crossing the

132 TIBETAN TREK

river just below Ata by a fine cantilever bridge of logs.
The path ran along some three or four hundred feet
above the main glacier, and provided no excitement
except at a few places where we had to cross avalanche
chutes, from fifteen to fifty yards broad. Some of
these were covered with loose rubble, which started
careering down as soon as anyone stepped on it, and
in those cases the only thing to do was to run over it
as fast as possible, sliding downhill the whole time,
so as to reach the other side before things got too
alarming. Others, which were steeper, so that debris
would not lie on them, were of polished earth and rock,
and then it was generally possible to dig steps across.
The first time I had been along that path — when
looking for a camp — it had been alive with ticks, but
when we all went up together there was hardly one
to be found. Possibly the varmints were dispirited
by seeing the tick-proof garments which we had
donned in their honour.

Every now and then we were able to look down on
the glacier. The entire surface was split up into
gaping cracks, with huge blocks and ridges, except
towards the foot, where the last mile or so had melted
till it was merely a dirty white layer of ice, and
covered with earth and stones. It creaked and
groaned the whole day long, and, at intervals, rocks,
loosened by the thaw, came rumbling and crashing
down from the sides of the valley to be gradually
carried along by the flow of the ice, till they found a
permanent home, years hence, on the terminal
moraine. All over the glacier were little pools of
emerald water, and, looking down crevasses, we could
see the same lovely colour glimmering far below.

CURIOUS CATTLE 133

For a good part of the way to Chutong, the path
led through rhododendron forest ; but since, on the
first day’s march, we did not climb to more than ten
thousand feet, we found that the flowers were already
over. Until late in the afternoon, thousands of butter-
flies were flitting about in the sun, and big fat beetles
were frightened, droning, into the air from every bush
as we passed by.

We slept that night on a small level patch of ground,
at the base of a huge tree. Now that it was thawing,
and as a result of the rain we had had in Ata, there
was water within fifty yards, and we were very
comfortable.

Next day we climbed steeply up to Chutong at
just over thirteen thousand feet, and camped on the
only possible spot, a small ledge perched up on the
precipitous side of the valley, on the very edge of the
tree line. I felt energetic on the way up, and hurried
ahead, arriving two hours in front of the coolies.
Sitting on a log, and looking back towards Ata, I
seemed to be suspended miles above the earth, and
extraordinarily alone. The only sounds to be heard
were the rustling of the breeze in the firs and the
occasional muffled roar of a boulder hurtling down on
the ice. The wonderful feeling of loneliness was
increased by a solitary black-and-white butterfly,
which settled on my knee, and sat for some time
placidly sunning itself. About three miles to the
right, and four thousand feet below, the glacier fell
in a gigantic cascade of glittering ice from between
two big peaks, which were dwarfed into insignificance
by the great white bulk of Chompo, towering high
above all others. From beneath me, the broad river

134 TIBETAN TREK

of ice stretched down towards the south-west. It
ended eight miles distant, in the white ribbon of the
Ata Chu, which stood out in sharp contrast to the
dark green, tree-covered slopes, as it wound away on
its long journey to the Brahmaputra and India. Every-
where else in front was a sea of jagged, snow-capped
mountains, extending, range upon range, right across
to the Burma frontier and the Mishmi Divide. Behind,
the hillside rose abruptly for another thousand feet
to the Cheti La, the first of the passes we had to cross,
and was covered with rhododendrons of all colours,
from white to deep purple.

Our ledge was both narrow and nubbly, and we
had some difficulty in making three spaces fiat enough
to give us respectable floors for our tents; but, with
the hut and a roaring fire, everything looked very
cheery. We were glad of the fire; for, although the
day had been quite warm, immediately the sun
vanished behind Chompo the air became chilly, and
there was a hurried scramble for sweaters and wind-
proof jackets. Kingdon Ward rejoiced with exceed-
ing great joy now that we had climbed high enough to
find quantities of flowers ; B. C. strode around, happily
noting down pictures for the film; and I was feeling
more than satisfied with life in general; so we were
all in good heart that evening. When the coolies
had been paid off, they started back down the hill
again, with the exception of two whom Kingdon
Ward engaged to be hewers of wood and drawers of
water.

It was a perfect night: the sky was filled with
brilliant stars, and the southern horizon was lit up by
ceaseless flashes of lightning, showing that the monsoon

CURIOUS CATTLE 135

was already in full swing. A thousand feet below
twinkled the camp-fires of the coolies, and, as we sat
by a huge blaze, with Kingdon Ward strumming on
his ukelele, we would not have changed places with
any one in the world.

CHAPTER NINE

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

a The roads are steep and dangerous, the cold wind is extremely biting,
and frequently fierce dragons impede and molest travellers with their
inflictions. Those who travel this road should not wear red garments,
nor carry loud-sounding calabashes. The least forgetfulness of these
precautions entails certain misfortune.”

Hsuan Tsang.

The first morning at Chutong we woke to find it a
gloriously sunny day, and after breakfast, while the
others were busied about the camp, I climbed up to the
Cheti La, which is fourteen thousand two hundred and
fifty feet high, to see what hope there was of crossing it.
The pass has a large hollow in the middle, about a
hundred feet deep, and is altogether shaped rather like
a sauce-boat. From the far side one looks down a very
sharp slope to a glacier, which leads steeply up to the
Ata Kang La (or Ata Snow Pass) at over sixteen
thousand feet. The path went zigzagging down what
was almost a precipice before running along above the
glacier, and was almost all under snow. Where it left
the top of the pass, a large cornice projected out some
fifteen feet. I thought it would be a good scheme to
see how far I could manage to go along the route to
the Ata Kang La. With some difficulty I managed
to climb round the cornice, and on to the snow beneath,
which was packed hard by the wind. I started off by
kicking steps, but after five yards I slipped and shot

Acn.R Camp with Two Hanging Glaoikrs Bf.yond (p.

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 137

rapidly down for a couple of hundred feet, before
running on a rock which stopped the flight.

A trifle thunderstruck at the prospect of getting
back again, I sat there for a while and ate a piece
of chocolate, afterwards collecting some flowers for
Kingdon Ward, which were peering out of the snow.
It was impossible to climb up by the way I had come —
the snow was too hard — so I turned to a ridge of rock
which ended, above the pass, at the bottom of a thirty-
foot snow slope. Being anything but a skilful moun-
taineer, it took me an hour and a half to reach the
level of the pass. I rested on a rock for a minute or
two, and, to my great joy, I spotted Kingdon Ward,
who had seen my tracks and was preparing to follow,
to give me a hand if need be. I yelled a warning to
him, and, instead of going down, he set to work making
steps up to the point where I would finish the
climb.

The way had been difficult before, but from then on
it was much worse, for the rocks and stones were just
on the point of avalanching, and as soon as they were
touched away they went down into the valley. Before
long I was gibbering with fright; but at length, with
my heart in my mouth, and an emptiness in the pit
of my stomach, I reached the snow slope, which was
fortunately soft. Like a slug I crawled up, digging
in my arms to the elbows and kicking footholds as I
went. At the top my hands and arms were dead with
cold; but, thanks to Kingdon Ward’s noble rescue
work, it was easy going down to the pass again. We
could see that it could not be crossed for at least
another ten days, and so lost interest in it, spending
the rest of the afternoon together in hunting for

138 TIBETAN TREK

flowers, before descending once more to the camp for
tea.

That was almost our last fine day at Chutong. The
next morning heavy clouds were coming up fast from
the south-west, and after that we had fourteen days of
almost continuous rain, with the whole place en-
veloped in thick mist, and everything rather cheerless.
We moved the fire into the hut, and spent most of that
fortnight huddled round it, playing chess or patience,
and writing letters. Kingdon Ward was the chess
champion. Neither B. C. nor I ever managed to
defeat him, falling time after time into the cunning
traps which he set for our undoing. Even so, the
matches used generally to go on for more than an hour,
and they were always exciting, in spite of the fact that
whoever played with Kingdon Ward knew himself
foredoomed from the start. The patience became
a positive vice. Starting to play a game in the
morning, we found it impossible to stop until we had
got it out, and, if we succeeded in this, it was only an
added incentive to try to win again. B. C.’s scientific
mind could not resist working out the averages for the
different games. In “ Sevens ” the proportions of
wins to losses was one in nine; in “ Demon,” one in
sixty-four; and with “Monte Carlo” we never
succeeded at all, so it had no average. This
infuriated us, and before long we concentrated
entirely on the latter, grimly determined to win at
least once, whatever the cost.

All the wood was soaking wet, and the fire belched
forth volumes of smoke, to our great discomfort.
Twitched about by a capricious ground-wind, the
fumes smothered us each in turn, and the moans of

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 1 39

anguish which rose from the sufferer of the moment
were so heartrending that the others could offer no
sympathy, but only laugh in helpless fashion, until
suddenly they too were gasping for breath and cover-
ing their streaming eyes. In spite of the weather we
had a lot of fun in Chutong.

To his other duties, B. G. added that of doctor for the
time being. A few old leech-bites on my leg had gone
septic, and he devised a most potent ointment with
which to cure them. He made it from a mixture of
carbolic soap and Hazeline, mashing them up with a
knife, and, strange to say, it was quite effective. The
only drawback was that I got wet pretty often, and
had to go about with a thick froth seeping through my
stockings. The servants were much amazed at this
phenomenon, and gazed at it respectfully.

Just as B. C. turned his thoughts to medicine, so I
became a dentist, making up in strength and vigour
what I lacked in skill. Chimi came to me one morning
complaining of an ache in one of his wisdom teeth.
I borrowed a large pair of pliers from B. C. and set to
work on the youth, who suffered in stoical silence.
In trying to get at the tooth, I must have nearly
broken the poor chap’s jaw; but at long last I seized
it in a firm grip, and with a terrible wrench I tore it
from his head. I was relieved to see that it was the
right tooth I had pulled out, for I had found it a
harrowing job ; and as for the victim, I do not believe
he could ever have summoned up sufficient courage to
come again even if it had not been the one.

The hillside was honeycombed with pygmy hare
and vole-holes, and though we did not see many of the
latter, pygmy hares used to pop out of the ground

TIBETAN TREK

140

quite frequently within two or thi'ee yards of the hut.
They would take a good look at us, decide that we
were more or less harmless, and calmly begin their
dinner of herbs, sitting up now and then with quiver-
ing noses to take a look at the view. When we first
arrived at Ghutong, none of these animals were to be
seen; but as the snow melted and fresh green shoots
began to appear, they came trekking up from lower
down in the valley. They moved in a kind of wave,
following the young grass, and after a week or ten
days they had all passed our camp, and we only saw
them during the few fine intervals when we climbed
about near the pass.

In spite of all the rain, our water supply was de-
pendent on snow, of which, luckily, there was a large
patch not ten yards from the tents, which just lasted us
until we were able to move on again. Our water-boy
had a hard time of it. He was always going out to
fill an old kerosene tin, and manifestly bewailing the
fact that snow melted into such a small space. The
snow patch was also most useful as a refrigerator, and,
another pig having been carried up from Ata, we were
able this time to keep it beautifully fresh.

On the eighth day Kingdon Ward and I went up to
the Cheti La again, feeling certain that after all the
rain we had been having it must surely be open.
Ever since the beginning of the bad weather the air
had been filled with the thunder of avalanches, and
even though the difficult side of the pass faced the
north, so that the thaw would get no help from the sun,
we hoped to find it more or less clear. A lot of snow
had gone, but there was still plenty lying around, and
the path down towards the glacier looked far from

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS I4I

inviting. Kingdon Ward searched the ground with
field-glasses, and saw that there was a carpet of small
scarlet rhododendrons covering all the bare patches,
so he decided to go down. We shuffled round the
cornice, which had not shrunk much, and dropped
down into the valley, finding it hard going, but much
easier than when I had last made the effort. We
could easily have climbed up the way we had come ; but
Kingdon Ward is a man who knows not the meaning
of fear, and he suggested that we should try a side
gully instead. Not liking to appear a spoil-sport, I
agreed, and we assaulted the place. It was extremely
steep, covered with slippery grass and patches of hard
snow, and by the time we had got half-way up I was
palsied with terror. Looking at Kingdon Ward, I
could see that he was quite undismayed ; and, in any
case, it would have been far worse to have tried to get
down again. Quivering from head to foot, and bathed
in a cold sweat of horror, I crept after him. It seemed
to me that the way grew progressively worse ; but all
things come to an end, and at last, feeling years older,
I heaved myself up over the edge, to find him already
dissecting a flower as delicately as though he had been
sitting at home in his study all day, instead of
scrambling about and frightening me out of my life.

After this episode, the next nine days were so
uniformly vile that we did very little, beyond pottering
up to the pass once or twice, and sometimes prospect-
ing for flowers close at hand. Incidentally, in the
hollow of the Cheti La we saw several Monaul pheas-
ants with their chicks, and Kingdon Ward spotted some
snow-pigeons on one of his excursions. B. C. was the
one to be affected most by the rain, for he had no work

TIBETAN TREK

142

whatever to do unless there was plenty of sun ; but he
bore up amazingly well, and was always cheery.
Most of the time he put the weather resolutely out of
his mind; but if a sudden squall brought it forcibly
to his notice, an expression of heavy gloom would come
over his face, and dolefully he would remark that it
was the longest spell he had ever put through without
being able to take so much as one shot. Two minutes
later he would be in good spirits again.

We celebrated July the 4th — not having had a party
for some time — with half a Christmas pudding and loud
cheers. The necessary crackers were supplied by the
fire, which exploded violently and frequently that
night, though why that should have been we could
never make out. Not even the fact that, as far as the
weather was concerned, it was easily the worst of the
fourteen ghastly days we had there, could damp our
enthusiasm. The only thing which seriously dis-
turbed both Kingdon Ward and B. C. (and, vicari-
ously, me) was that their tents had obviously been
designed as practical jokes. It was easy to see the
reason for their having been shipped out to India by
the firm which had supplied them so hurriedly that
they could not be inspected. To start with, they
took hours of frenzied effort to erect ; and, when they
did finally stand in all their wrinkled shame, it was
seen that, having no side-ropes to hold them out, the
walls were magnificently concave, and almost met in
the middle, resulting in a miserable lack of space
inside. Furthermore, instead of building them to
specification, the maker had skimped things more than
a bit, and had created two tents in miniature, measur-
ing five feet two by four feet four, and a bare five feet

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 1 43

high. The flies were so ridiculously small as to be
useless, and, worst of all, the tents had been built on
such a principle that a shower of rain instantly flooded
them out, by pouring down the tent-poles through
large, specially designed apertures at the top, I
suppose the manufacturer had the comfortable
feeling that the rottenest stuff was good enough for
people who were too far away to complain. It was
the worst possible luck on their owners, who had to
live in places which were like leaky Rooms of Little
Ease, where they could neither stand nor stretch out
when they lay down.

It was a noticeable fact that during the whole of our
stay at Chutong, whenever the clouds lifted high
enough for us to be able to look down the valley, we
could see Ata bathed in sunshine, although every-
where else was in shadow'. The Lama’s stock must
have risen to a great height at this obvious and satis-
factory answer to his prayers. At last, on the seven-
teenth day, we had hot sunshine, under which we
brightened up enormously. Our clothes and bedding
were quickly hung up on lines to get dry, and proved
an effective bait for butterflies and beetles, which
settled on them in swarms. We all set to work taking
pictures, and the way B. C. bustled around was a
delight to watch. After he had filmed everything he
wanted round Chutong itself, he was dragged off by
the indefatigable Kingdon Ward to clamber about
near the pass until sundown, shooting flowers. He
tottered back in the evening, weary but very pleased
with everything, and mightily relieved that he had
been able to get pictures w'hich he had really given
up all hope of ever taking. As a matter of fact, we

TIBETAN TREK

144

were extremely lucky to get that one bright day. It
was the only one. We had already sent back Chumbi
to round up coolies. He arrived with them the follow-
ing night, and on July the 10th we struck camp, and
crossed the Cheti La.

Our coolies had been collected from Ata and Suku.
They started off the day well, by a furious argument
between the two rival villages as to which should have
which loads. There seemed to be no prospect of them
arriving at any sort of a settlement, until Kingdon
Ward became tired of the noise and the delay, and
portioned out the loads, man by man, with no regard
for factions. They were quite pleased and satisfied
at this, and moved off without more ado. On reach-
ing the top of the Cheti La, there was a chorus of yells
as the men shouted out exhortations to the spirits of the
pass not to bring a storm or other catastrophe on them.
A halt was called, and they busied themselves in
lighting fires to the Gods, in adding stones to the heaps
that were already there, and in tying scraps of cloth
to sticks, which they stuck in the ground at the summit.
Having by then done all in their power to ensure a
good journey, they picked up their loads again and we
started the descent.

There was no sun; but, even so, the glare off the
snow was very trying, and the coolies, who had no
glasses, protected their eyes either by tying a strip of
coarse cotton over them, or by wearing a fringe of
cords like those things they put on horses to keep off
the flies. Once we had clambered round the edge of
the cornice and on to the path again, the going was
comparatively straightforward until we were about
five hundred feet down. After that we had to traverse

'Fin: Last Sight of Kingdon Ward and Chdmbi. From the Ata Kang

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 1 45

for a couple of miles across steep snow, kicking steps
as we went. Once or twice, when we got on to short
stretches of rock, the path became quite spectacular,
notably when it rounded a cliff about a mile before
the end. Although the way was difficult enough to
make us go pretty slowly, there was only one accident,
and that a very small affair, when one of the coolies
slipped on the snow and went bounding down some
three hundred feet. Luckily neither he nor his load
(Kingdon Ward’s bedding) suffered at all; but the
man was awfully angry at having to cut steps all the
way up again, and arrived at the top with a face like
thunder. Some of these coolies of ours marched all
day through the snow in bare feet, without seeming to
be particularly cold. It made me shiver even to look
at them.

We made camp at about fourteen thousand feet on
the glacier, which was covered at that point by two
feet of rubble and boulders. We did not specially
want to sit on the ice like that, but there was no other
place where we could possibly halt at all. That was
a chilly camp ! The thin layer of stones was not much
of a protection against the cold which struck up from
the five hundred feet of ice we had underneath us,
and our feet were permanently numb all day long, do
what we might. It was a bleak spot, with nothing to
protect us from the wind of the monsoon. A south-
west wind sounds mellow and comforting, but it was
just the reverse at Glacier Camp, cold and biting to
the last degree. We were surrounded on all sides by
snow, ice, and granite, and within three miles of us
were five hanging glaciers. The nearest vegetation
was half a day’s march back, and we had to keep

146 TIBETAN TREK

three coolies busy going to and fro with loads of
firewood. The others left that same evening, and
went back to Ghutong, where it was warmer, to wait
there until we sent for them again. Our only reason
for staying in that desolate spot was to get a shot of
some special rhododendrons which grew just under
the Cheti La, and Kingdon Ward decided to hang on
until the sun came out again. Food was running
very low, as we had not expected to be held up for so
long at Ghutong, and men were sent back to Ata to
bring up supplies of rice and tsamba. In the mean-
time, we went on to short rations of rice and pemmi-
can. The latter made such an excellent soup that we
came to the conclusion that any restaurant in London
which made a practice of serving it would amass a
fortune in no time.

The only way we could get to sleep at night was by
having large stones heated, wrapped up in towels, and
put in the blankets at our feet. They kept warm until
the morning with a little luck. On the first night, for
some reason best known to himself, Tashi had buried
Kingdon Ward’s warming-pan up near the pillow, and
so next time he was ordered to put it well under the
blankets. He interpreted this so literally that he
deposited towel and stone on the floor under the camp
bed, and when Kingdon Ward left my tent that night
(it was the dining-room as well) he found them there
dismally reposing. Tashi was summoned with a howl
of indignation, and was sent post haste to heat a
fresh rock. Distracted, he made the stone so infernally
hot that it set the towel on fire, and, noticing nothing,
he cavorted back past my abode enveloped in a great
cloud of smoke. He dashed into the tent, and was

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 1 47

with difficulty prevented by a now completely
incoherent Kingdon Ward from burying the glowing
bundle in the bed, and so setting everything ablaze.

Whatever bad points Glacier Camp possessed, it
did at least solve the clothing problem. We never had
to think what we were going to wear, for the simple
reason that, day and night, we wore everything we had,
all piled on top of foundation garments of pyjamas.
The wind was the worst trial, and on account of this
and rain, we spent the first two days hardly moving
from our tents. Then, after a terrific storm during the
night, the weather looked quite promising, so Kingdon
Ward and B. C. set off back towards the rhododen-
drons, meaning to wait there until the sun came out
for a few minutes — -just long enough for the picture.
The weather held itself in check until they had been
gone an hour, and then, without any warning, there
came an appalling blizzard straight off Ghompo, with
driving hail and sleet. I, in my tent, was nearly
frozen, in spite of being dry and out of the wind.
What those two must have suffered I just hate to
think; but heroically they stuck it out for two solid
hours in the hopes of it clearing, and giving them the
chance of a shot. Finally they staggered back again,
soaking wet and literally almost unable to move.
We in camp had been on the look-out for some time,
and were luckily able to fill hot- water bottles and heat
stones, and to prepare rum and tea for them before
they arrived. They were too cold to hold the cups.

The storm ceased almost magically at half-past six
that evening, and a clear cold night with millions of
stars made the poor sufferers feel that at any rate they
might be able to get their film the following day.

I48 TIBETAN TREK

Strange to say, next morning the weather was pretty
good, and back they went again. At the same time,
taking a coolie with me as guide, I turned up towards
the Ata Kang La. A mile above our camp was a big
ice-fall, up which we clambered, and from the top of
it the main path continued along the glacier straight
up to the pass. The glacier starts by flowing from
south to north, later dividing into two arms, one
continuing to the north, and the other, on which we
had camped, branching to the south-west. The Ata
Kang La is actually the point where these two arms
separate. It was fairly easy going, although the snow
was split by deep fissures running right down into the
ice, most of which were not more than a yard across,
and easy to negotiate. However, later in the year,
when the snow melts, they make it impossible to travel
along the glacier, and a subsidiary path is used up on
the north side of the valley. To see what that was
like, we left the main route, cut over the ice, and
climbed steeply up the rocks for about four hundred
feet. After that it was pretty stiff travelling, as the
so-called path did not exist for more than a quarter
of the way. We spent most of the time traversing
across loose screes and snow slopes, and we were filled
with gloom because the Watkins Barometer, which
was being carried by the coolie, slipped out of its case
and, striking a rock, fell in pieces. My thoughts flew
back to B. C. when the accident happened, in the
pathetic hope that he might be able to put the thing
together again, and so we spent a vain and despairing
half-hour in trying to find the fragments.

The last part of the climb was very steep, and when
we reached the top of the ridge, some five hundred

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 149

feet above the Ata Kang La, I was quite glad to sit
down. The pass wc were then on was called the
Oli La, and was precipitous on both sides. It must
have been an awful job for loaded coolies to cross.
From where we were there was a grand view towards
the north in the direction of Shiuden Gomba. From
the Ata Kang La the valley sloped down quite gently,
so that the furthest point we could see must have been
not lower than thirteen thousand five hundred feet.
The glacier ended two or three miles from the pass in
a small river. All round were jagged peaks, and the
only signs of life were a few scrubby bushes which
began to show near the banks of the river. After a
short rest we slithered down the snow on to the
glacier, and returned to camp by the main path.
Just as I got in, a severe thunderstorm broke, and
when it was almost over, the wretched Kingdon Ward
and B. C. arrived, once more dripping wet and frozen
to the bone. They had taken the shots they wanted,
though, and were quite cheery in spite of their parlous
condition. ,

Banking on that day being fine, Kingdon Ward
had made up his mind to push on the following
morning, July the 15th. Food being at a low ebb, we
were not able to have much of a farewell party at
dinner, but we did our best with some pemmican
soup, a little rice, and some biscuits. The next day,
after breakfast, he and his coolies started away. He
took Tashi and Ghumbi with him, leaving Pinzho to
us. B. C., who was feeling the height rather badly,
stayed in the camp, and I went with Kingdon Ward
to the top of the Ata Kang La. As we marched up
the glacier I grew more and more depressed, and when

I50 TIBETAN TREK

finally we shook hands on top and he turned to go, I
felt more miserable than any human being had a right
to feel. Kingdon Ward had not only been a mag-
nificent leader who had filled us all with the utmost
confidence from start to finish, but a most marvellous
companion, and when he went, it was just as though
there had been a death in the party.

After he had gone there was a strange sense of
loneliness up there on the pass. The only other
living thing in sight was a magnificent golden eagle,
sailing majestically over my head as I stood and
watched the little party dwindle to tiny black specks
on the great snow-field beyond. They disappeared,
and, very sadly, I turned back and made my way
once more down the glacier to B. C.

CHAPTER TEN

MELODIOUS SOUNDS

u I cannot eat but little meaty
My stomach is not good ”

Bishop Still (1543-1607),

Gammer Gurioris Needle, Act 2,

I reached the camp again at three o’clock. We
were rather subdued by Kingdon Ward’s departure,
and when, an hour later, there rose a howling gale of
wind and sleet, we had wretched forebodings that he
would be caught in it before he had time to make
camp. Soon, however, we were kept too busy looking
after ourselves to have any time to think of anybody
else. The storm grew to such a furious strength that
our tents began to come adrift. No sooner had we
struggled out and fastened the guy-ropes to bigger
and better boulders, becoming soaked through and
frozen in so doing, than another huge blast would
tear them from their moorings, and out we had to
totter again. We were never able to make a satis-
factory job of it, because all the stones were smooth
and rounded to such an extent that the ropes slipped
off comparatively easily. If our hands had been
warmer, we would probably have been able to fix
things up pretty well, but with numb fingers it was
very difficult to do much. As time went on we began
to wonder whether we would have to continue dashing
in and out like that all night long; but after three
hours the storm blew itself out, and we were left in

151

TIBETAN TREK

152

peace again. It was quite an amazing feeling to be
in silence after the howling of the wind.

Chimi, who had been left with us as well as Pinzho,
was now promoted to the giddy heights of gentleman’s
gentleman. He carried out his simple duties with a
singular lack of imagination combined with appalling
laziness; but we kept him on, since, idle though he
was, he was able to give Pinzho a fair amount of help
in one way or another, and if either B. C. or myself
was in camp, we could always keep him up to the
mark with admonishing words.

Kingdon Ward had strongly advised us not to
attempt to go back by way of the Lohit Valley, as,
now that the monsoon was in full blast, that route
would probably be almost impassable. Instead, he
had told us to turn up the Di Ghu Valley a few miles
south of Rima, and to cross over into Burma by the
Diphuk La, making our way eventually to Fort
Hertz, the last outpost, at the head of the Hkamti
Long. So Fort Hertz became our objective. The
remainder of the coolies arrived next morning, which
was fine and sunny, and after B. C. had spent some
time in taking shots of the glaciers, we started back
again on our way out of Tibet.

Once we had toiled to the top of the Cheti La, the
path was all downhill, and we moved along pretty
fast as far as Chutong. We had meant to stop the
night there to allow of photographing some blue
poppies ; but when we found that these were all over,
we decided to double the march, and so carried
straight on to the camping-ground of Shukdam, where
we had stopped on the way up. We halted for an
hour on the road, to give the coolies time for a meal,

MELODIOUS SOUNDS 1 53

and were met by two men on their way over the passes
to Shiuden Gomba. We seized the opportunity to
send a letter by them to Kingdon Ward, wishing him
all the best of luck on his journey, and this he received
about a week later, as we heard long after. Rations
were shorter now than ever ; but we were able to
collect a large number of bamboo shoots and some
wild rhubarb by the side of the path, and we made a
good little meal off these when we camped that night,
though the rhubarb had rather a feeble sort of taste,
and the bamboo practically none.

At Shukdam, we felt almost as though we were in
the tropics, it was so warm and balmy compared
with Glacier Camp. It was really quite odd to be
able to undress for bed, instead of just tumbling in
with every stitch of clothes on, and even then being
on the chilly side. The next morning we astounded
ourselves by the beauty of our appearance, for we
had got to work and had a much-needed shave. For
some time past it had been too cold to think of shaving,
with the result that the fine contours of our faces had
grown dim, blurred by a stubbly growth, which,
never attaining to the dignity of a beard, merely
looked disreputable and felt dirty. I often wished that
I had boldly started to grow a beard from the moment
we left Sadiya. It would have been an ornament
indeed by the time the journey was over ; and, what
is more, an uncommon one, for I could see that it
tended in an obscure manner to sprout fiercely
outwards from both sides of my face, leaving a
depressingly bald patch in the middle of my chin.

We reached Ata that same afternoon, and eagerly
opened the boxes of stores we had left behind there to

TIBETAN TREK

154

see what we had in the way of food. We found that
Kingdon Ward, generous soul that he is, had secretly
put two tins of Service Rations from his own meagre
store, as well as a dozen candles, into our boxes. We
were really worried by this; for while we were
getting, every day, closer to civilisation and supplies,
it was out of the question for him to buy anything but
native food for at least six months. It was charac-
teristic of him that he should think far more of our
comfort than of his own. There was no rice to be
bought at Ata, nor, in fact, nearer than Rongyul;
but tsamba was to be had in plenty, and when we
arrived we found, to our delight, that a Dzo had just
died at a ripe old age. We bought about twenty
pounds of this corpse, which was excellent eating,
though so tough that the faithful Pinzho always had
to make it up into Hamburg steaks. B. G. had been
longing for something to get his teeth into for weeks,
and was even more oveijoyed at this stroke of good
fortune than I. Ata was even filthier and viler
smelling than before. It was a relief to remember
that we had been invited by the monks, before we
went to Chutong, to spend a few days with them on
our return, and we lost no time in moving off down
the valley to the monastery.

By the most fiendish stroke of luck, we arrived there
just as they were starting a three-day silent fast, which
made conversation limited, and dashed to the ground
all our hopes of being given more of those delicious meat
pies. Nevertheless, it was a pleasant spot to rest in,
with its little white temple set in an open space studded
with prayer-flags, and surrounded by the houses of
the thirty monks; and as for the pies, the twenty

MELODIOUS SOUNDS 1 55

pounds of defunct Dzo made up for them! There
were a good many acolytes there as well, boys of
about eight years old up to fifteen or so. We were
greeted with beaming grins by the assembled clerics,
and ushered into the guest-house, where we had two
clean little rooms put at our disposal, one of which
became the kitchen.

The Headman of Modung was staying at the
monastery, and was delighted to see us, though he too
was bound by the vow of silence, and had to be
content with sitting by my side, happily smiling to
himself, for the next two hours, one hand on my
knee and the other clicking away at his beads. In
spite of his fatness, he turned out to be something of
an athlete during his frequent devotions. Twice a day
he prayed earnestly in the doorway of the temple.
Standing upright, he raised his arms as high above his
head as he could, with the palms pressed together;
bringing his hands down to the level of his face, he
stretched himself at full length on the floor, with his
forehead on the ground towards the altar; then
quickly up again, only to start once more from the
beginning. On each occasion he went through this
performance about two hundred times. His piety
was very great, and very exhausting ; but he had the
comforting certainty that all his efforts were being
noted down somewhere for future reference, and that
they would ensure him a happy time in his next
incarnation, each one bringing him a step nearer to
ultimate freedom from the Wheel.

Talking of incarnations, there was one fat little boy
of eight or nine at the Gomba, who was considered to
have been, in a previous existence, the great Buddha

156 TIBETAN TREK

himself. He was held in tremendous veneration, and
would ultimately, when grown up, become a very
important Abbot. He was a solemn little chap, and
very shy, who nearly always went about with an aged
Lama, his teacher and guardian.

Before we left him, Kingdon Ward had asked me to
collect as many bulbs of a certain lily as I could for
him. We found that these grew in large numbers
round Getchi, and the brilliant idea seized me of
setting the acolytes to work digging them out. They
were paid a small sum for good specimens, and such
was their energy that before long I had about one
hundred and fifty beauties, all wrapped in moss and
packed away into tins. In spite of his holiness, the
young incarnation was pathetically human in his
desire to earn a little pocket-money. He rooted up
bulbs with as much zest as any of the others, holding
his breath with excitement when he brought in his
collection and waited to see how much of it would
be bought. When the lilies began to grow scarce in
the neighbourhood he used to creep into our room
like a very plump mouse, bringing all sorts of little
things for sale. These ranged from black, home-
made sealing-wax, to a piece of mauri, a kind of very
rich toffee, made, we were told, entirely of butter,
though we could not understand how this could be.
He was such a charming little fellow that if we could
think of any possible use for his goods, we invariably
bought them and sent him on his way, his eyes
twinkling, and one of his rare smiles flitting across his
face at every other step. We were rather sorry for
him. Most of his days were taken up with studying
the complicated books of the Law, and already he

MELODIOUS SOUNDS I57

was beginning to be surrounded by the ceremony he
would never escape till the day of his death.

The silence rule applied only to the monks’ ordinary
life, and not to the religious services which were held
in the temple about every two hours until far into the
night. Outside, or in their houses, speech was
reduced entirely to signs; but they were almost as
proficient in making each other understand in that way
as they would have been by talking. Neither B. C.
nor I could ever make head or tail of these signs ;
but to every one else they were as plain as could be.
The system is in common use all over that part of
Tibet, owing to the many dumb lunatics who are
brought about by in-breeding, and who can neither
speak nor follow anything else. In church there was
no restraint placed upon noise, and, the guest-house
being a bare fifteen yards from the temple, we received
the full benefit of a choir of lusty voices chanting
to the not unmusical accompaniment of the local
orchestra. This was formed of prayer trumpets both
long and short, gongs, cymbals, and instruments
rather like clarionets, but without reed mouthpieces.
The latter resembled bagpipes in the noise they made,
and the whole thing was definitely stirring, though
we became a bit tired of it before very long, wishing
that Lamas were not quite so religious.

On the second day of our stay there, the Gomba
authorities came in with a present of a dozen eggs,
butter, and a kata, or ceremonial scarf, which it is
etiquette to give on any visit of importance. When
we had accepted the gifts, the leader turned to
Pinzho and, in sign language, told him that the
monastery was thinking of rebuilding shortly, and an

X58 TIBETAN TREK

offering of money from us would be very acceptable.
Having nothing else to give in return for the butter
and eggs, we would in any case have handed over
some money; but the request made us smile, all the
same. Pinzho had a hunt for further supplies shortly
after that, and came back proudly bearing about ten
pounds of mauri on a wooden platter, all of which
we duly bought. It tasted rather like treacle toffee,
but was much richer, and we were once more puzzled
to know how it could be made out of butter alone, as
we were assured it was. They said it was simply
made by boiling the butter for hours and hours and
then cooling it rapidly ; but it did not seem to us that
that would turn it into toffee. Anyhow, there is no
sugar in Tibet, and how it was given that distinctive
sweet flavour beat us entirely. We started off by
mixing it with tsamba-porridge, and by heating it to
use as jam on our tsamba-dough ; but though it was
probably most nourishing, we grew so sick of it after
a couple of days that even to look at it made us pale.
However, by dint of giving it a rest now and then, we
got good value out of our mauri, and it lasted us until
we were nearly at Fort Hertz. When we were able
to buy flour again, a bit further down the valley,
Pinzho, who had become a chef of no mean order,
discovered that it could be made into excellent
chapatties which were not unlike an unleavened
gingerbread, and it was in this form that we finished
it off.

During our stay at Getchi, B. C. was able to take a
good many photos of the temple, and we had time to
examine it at leisure. Going through the large outer
doorway, the sides and the top of which were carved

MELODIOUS SOUNDS 1 59

into a kind of key pattern and coloured yellow, blue,
green, and red, we came into a large vestibule, the
walls covered with paintings. Most of these were life-
size portraits of Gods and Goddesses, but there was
one really glorious picture of the Buddhist Hell: a
magnificent effort, reminiscent of Dante’s Inferno.
Every imaginable torture for every possible sin was
vividly shown, the stolid faces of the victims, with their
upturned eyes, looking just like early Christian
martyrs, though, if anything, slightly less ridiculous.
The worst days of the Inquisition were Heaven to
that Hell. Up above it all was a peaceful scene
showing the blessed in Nirvana, with sun, green grass
and quiet streams, and everybody smugly singing the
praises of Buddha, who sat enthroned on high. Apart
from one or two minor details, such as gold crowns,
harps, and wings, all of which were lamentably
lacking, the whole thing might have been painted by
some monk in Europe during the Middle Ages. It
was most refreshing to look at. Going through this
hall, we came into the temple proper, a big room
about forty feet square, very dark, with no windows
and many pillars. At the far end was the altar, and
on it three large idols and numerous smaller ones.
In front of them were rows of little silver butter lamps,
burning like diminutive candles in the gloom, and there
were copper dishes for offerings. At one side, from
the ceiling, hung a great gong, in front of which
were an open prayer-book and a pair of cymbals.
Two huge censers of brass stood in front of the altar,
and the place smelt of stale incense, faint and rather
mysterious. All three idols had katas hung round
their necks and over their arms, and on the votive-

l60 TIBETAN TREK

dishes were pink tsamba-cakes, dabs of butter, and
heaps of corn.

The Lamas were proud of being photographed,
and wanted us to film the inside of the temple as well
as the outside ; but it was too hopelessly dark, and, as
there was no means of letting in light, we had to
disappoint them.

Not being a monk, the Headman of Modung did
not feel it incumbent upon him to remain silent for
as long as the regulars, and started to talk again on
the second day, begging us, almost with tears, to stay
at least three days with him.

We hesitated, because we had not really meant to
stay in Modung at all; but in the end we com-
promised with two, because, in the first place, we
liked him and did not want to hurt his feelings, and
in the second, because we were running rather short
of cash, and hoped that if we fell in with his whim,
he might be induced to change a hundred-rupee
note. We thought that, like most of the others, he
was probably so anxious to have us in order to be
paid the few rupees for lodgings; but in this we
cruelly wronged the good man, for when we got there
he insisted not only on giving us our rooms for
nothing, but also on feeding us most royally while
we were with him. Altogether he was a most delightful
fellow.

Modung seemed to have a most unfortunate effect
on our footwear. The first time we had been in its
vicinity Kingdon Ward had lost his boots, and now,
on the way there from the monastery, the sole of one
of B. C.’s shoes came unhitched and needed to be tied
up with string about every fifty yards, which sadly

Tur. Ti mpi.k Orc.hemra. Ginm Gomha ,j>.

MELODIOUS SOUNDS I§I

discomposed the poor soul. B. C. was a most even-
tempered man; but on the few occasions when his
wrath was roused it was a privilege to hear him.

The Headman changed the note without a murmur,
which was really very trusting of him, as he had never
seen one before, and would certainly not be able to
get silver for it again until he made a journey into
India, and Heaven only knew when that would be.
He was a perfectly admirable host in every way.
Having taken note of the style of our meals, he
straightway slew a pig, and served us the first evening
with fresh soup, and about two pounds of pork-chops
each, dished up with green vegetables. Every other
meal we had with him was of the same Gargantuan
excellence. He got hold of flour, and set his women
to work making a vast store of chapatties for our use
on the road, and even provided a tamasha to divert
us. This, like my •brother’s famous pig, was in two
parts. The first consisted of a private show by
minstrels on the balcony in front of the house. There
were two performers in the turn. One played
vigorously on what looked like a cross between a
banjo and a violin, producing an extremely rapid
selection of tuneless notes, which nevertheless were
quite merry to listen to. Both of them shuffled up
and down to the strains, stamping their feet, and
twiddling round from time to time. Sometimes they
broke into verse together, and sang what were
obviously vulgar ditties, to judge by the mirth of the
bystanders and the way they prodded each other in
the ribs. After five or six minutes of this capering,
the act grew a bit monotonous to us ; but the Tibetans
loved it dearly, and kept it going for at least half an

l62 TIBETAN TREK

hour. Minstrels like these wander all over Tibet
during the summer, playing at all the important
houses, and being given food, lodging, and money
as they go about. These two said they came from
Sangachu Dzong, so they must have been making a
round tour, going down the Zayul River and back up
the Rong To. They were a cheery pair, and quite
good-looking.

The second part of our treat was more or less
religious in character. We all went off to a field near
by, and sat down under an awning in great state on
Chinese saddle-cloths of red felt, together with the
Headmen of Ata and Suku, and the local notabilities.
There were three booths in the field, two of which
were there to provide the crowd with refreshments of
chang, buttered tea, and thick chapatties (at least
half an inch thick and six inches across), very like
whole-meal bread. The third one was occupied by
the monks of Getchi and the orchestra, who kept up
a series of dreary chants to musical accompaniment,
practically the whole afternoon. In fact, the tamasha
consisted of nothing but eating and drinking (princi-
pally the latter), flavoured with religion. One of the
old men under our awning was very drunk, but in a
most attractive and gentlemanly manner. His only
lapses from good behaviour were when he occasionally
fell asleep, snoring resonantly until roused by a nudge
from his companions. At those times he was always
most upset, and apologised to us profusely, if incoher-
ently. Our friend the Headman was just like an old
English squire at a gathering of the tenants. As he
sat under the awning, drinking tea (for he was teetotal) ,
everyone would bow to him as they passed, and doff

MELODIOUS SOUNDS 1 63

their hats. He inclined his head graciously, and now
and again called some one up and said a few kind
words, asking how his corn was getting on, or whether
he was going up to Shiuden Gomba that year on
pilgrimage, and so on. We on the saddle-cloths
were regaled with a very extra special meal of liver
sausage, and huge chunks of cold pork, as well as the
thick chapa tties. It was all very pleasantly bucolic;
but a stray thought did wander through our minds
that it might have been improved by a few dancing-
girls here and there.

We spent the promised couple of nights in Modung,
and when the time came to move on there was a
general exchange of gifts. The Headman presented
us with a shoulder and side of pork, skinny but good,
and in return we gave him our folding camp-chair,
an empty stores box, and my flask, which he had
long coveted. We were forced to the distressing
conclusion that our friend must have been in failing
health and in need of restoratives ; for, teetotaller or
not, he was eager for us to fill the flask with rum before
we gave it to him. By handing over the chair, we
fulfilled two purposes. Not only did we make him
very pleased (our main idea), but we prevented dis-
cussions between B. C. and myself as to who should
sit in it, and thenceforth we both used boxes for seats.

Our host was really more than a mere Headman,
and seemed to be in a position of authority over
everybody for miles around, so that before we left he
wrote out a long document, borrowing my pen for the
purpose, to tell all the villages lower down the valley
that they must be on the look-out for us, and provide
coolies and all the help we wanted without delay.

TIBETAN TREK

164

This letter was so successful that we generally found
our transport waiting for us when we arrived at the
end of each stage, and altogether we were treated
like nobles of the bluest blood. Our coolies started
off, and after taking farewell of the Headman, we
followed them down the Ata Gorge, up the ladders
and along the galleries, until we reached the sus-
pension bridge.

B. G. hung behind on the march to take films;
Chimi was deputed to bring along the main body of
coolies; and Pinzho, with two men carrying the
kitchen boxes, came ahead with me. After two or
three miles, we seemed to be a long way in front of
the coolies, so I stopped to wait for them, upon which
Pinzho, conscientious as ever, asked if he might go
on without me so as to have some tea ready when we
caught him up again. When he had gone, I sat for
some time without seeing a sign of Chimi and his
charges, until, becoming tired of waiting, I wandered
back to find out why there was all the delay. Pre-
sently I came to a small grassy patch, and there were
the coolies, all of them fast asleep, their heads pillowed
on bundles, and our faithless servant, with his mouth
wide open, snoring under a tree. I prodded him
violently with my stick. He woke in a fright, to see
me towering over him in my wrath like a figure of
doom; and such an amazing expression of utter
horror flashed into his face, that if I had not been so
angry I should have roared with laughter. With his
eyes popping from his head, and his mouth still gaping
wide, he listened to my stem words of rebuke. He was
so much shaken by the whole affair that for the rest of
that day he became a positive slave-driver, hounding

MELODIOUS SOUNDS 1 65

on the coolies at every stop, and working himself into
a frenzy of effort whenever he thought I might be
watching him. It was almost the only time while
he was with us that we ever saw him do more than the
barest minimum of work.

When we came to the bridge, the Ata Chu was
roaring down like a great torrent of foaming milk,
and swirling evilly behind the huge grey rocks which
stood out from the river like teeth. Above the noise
of the water could be heard the ceaseless grinding
and churning of boulders dashed along the river-bed
by the force of the current. It was almost impossible
to talk and be heard, and quite hopeless to try to get
through to the Rong To Valley by scrambling along
at the foot of the Gorge as we had come up. How-
ever, once over the river, there was another path
which led very steeply up more ladders to the top of
the south wall of the Gorge, and round the corner
into the main valley. The sun was just setting behind
the mountains when we looked down on to the Rong
To Chu fifteen hundred feet below us. The pines
were lit up with a soft yellow light, and the river
glittered like a streak of silver. There was no breath
of wind, and we rested up there for a time before
following a gently sloping path down along the side
of the valley, to a small clearing on the river-bank
some two miles below the confluence, where we
finally made camp.

Shortly before we halted, we saw a man fishing
with nets. Both of us were greatly surprised at that,
since it was in the neighbourhood of seven thousand
feet, and, being so close to a glacier, we had not
imagined there would be any fish there at all. We did

1 66 TIBETAN TREK

not see him catch any, as a matter of fact, but he
would hardly have been heaving nets into the water
for fun.

We celebrated my birthday that night on pork
chops and a tot of rum apiece, an excellent meal, only
marred by the fact that I had a gnawing pain in my
stomach, which not even B. C.’s ministrations could
remove. Our united medical skill failed to diagnose
the complaint. It would have cut us to the quick to
think that our cherished pork was at the bottom of
it all.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
SMALL BEER

44 A little round, fat, oily man of God/*

James Thomson.

The Castle of Indolence, Canto i, Stanza 69.

After a somewhat sketchy breakfast we packed up
and started off to Rongyul. We were able to use the
same path as on our northward journey, except in one
or two places, where we had previously made our way
along the bed of the river. That, of course, was all
under water by this time, so we were forced to make
long detours to pick up the track again later on.
There were thousands of pink and white dog-roses
lining the way, and butterflies all over the place
fluttering from flower to flower. When we came to
Isa, B, G. and I felt that we could do with a good
draught of tea, but unfortunately the hospitable Head-
man was away somewhere, and indeed the only
inhabitant of the place left at home seemed to be a
large and ferocious dog of malignant temper. Under
those circumstances we decided against stopping
there, and carried on without more ado, tea-less, but
at least unscathed.

We reached the Rope Bridge after nine hours’
marching, fairly weary, and were faced with a serious
problem in getting our things across. When we had
left Rongyul nine weeks before there had been two
bridges in position, one running each way, so that

TIBETAN TREK

1 68

traffic in either direction was quick and easy; but by
the time we came back, the rope we needed had
collapsed, leaving only the one which had a steep
slope against us. Half the villagers came down to
give us a hand from the other bank, and strung the
leather thongs from their sliders together to make a
line long enough to reach right over the river. By
fastening that to the boxes when they were hitched on
the rope, so that they could be pulled across, we
lightened the work a good deal. Even so, though we
had a mere twenty loads to get over, it was half-past
ten that night before everything was safely on the far
side. It grew dark around eight o’clock, and after
that the job had to be carried out by the light of
pine- torches and fires. We were held up many times
by the life-line breaking when a load was half-way
| across. When that happened, a coolie had to slide

down the rope to mend it in mid-air, and heave him-
self back again before any more could be done.
Ghimi was sent off early with the stores box to the
house, and when at last we arrived there ourselves,
we found that for once in his life he had done a good
job of work entirely on his own, by having hot tea and
an exceptionally good curry ready for us by the time
we came in. The curry was Chimi’s swan song.
After that great effort he never did another stroke,
and relapsed into fatty sloth.

We were glad to find that we had the same room
allotted to us as before. It was a comfortable place,
clean and dry, and conveniently close to the kitchen.
The only thing against it was that the mosquito
season was in full swing, and the brutes took a strange
fancy to our apartment. To my mind, there is

SMALL BEER

r6g

nothing so completely infuriating as a crowd of
mosquitoes pinging past one’s ear in the dark and
settling on one’s face with evil intent. As a matter of
fact, I was too sleepy myself to pay very much atten-
tion to them that night ; but while I was drowsing off
I could hear muttered oaths and the sound of heavy
slaps coming from B. G.’s side of the room, which
showed that he at least was being kept amused and
diverted. However, we spent another night at
Rongyul, and then, having had a day of comparative
laziness, I too joined the midnight revels. We beat
our faces for hours on end, groaning, until at last,
worn out with our efforts, we stopped worrying about
bites or anything else, and sank into a stertorous
slumber, happily unconscious of nibbles. We did
actually have a mosquito net, which Kingdon Ward
had given us before he left ; but as we had not expected
to need it until we were a good way lower down the
valley, it was buried in one of the boxes under a great
mound of odds and ends. Rather than dig it out
we had prayed optimistically for a night cold enough
to keep the mosquitoes at bay, but all to no avail.

After that, on a baking hot morning, we moved
down to Sole. The Headman of Rongyul was a
cripple ; but his deputy, a big fellow who was about
six feet four and broad in proportion, came along
with his coolies, and looked after us most assiduously.
Every time we came to a stream he hurried on and
filled his bowl with water, politely handing it to us
when we came up with him ; and once or twice, when
he saw our pipes were out, he produced a large bag
of tobacco from inside his coat and pressed a fill upon
us. He was carrying a couple of dozen pockets of

TIBETAN TREK

170

musk, which he wanted to sell at a rupee each. There
was a chance of making quite a big profit on them, as
in India the price is anything from twenty rupees
upwards per pocket, according to the quality of the
musk; but I have never shone in big business, and I
knew perfectly well that I would get left with it all on
my hands in the end, so I did not bid. B. G. felt
much the same, I think. Finally it was Pinzho who
bought the man’s stock. He asked me to pack the stuff
in one of my boxes where it could be kept dry, and
ever afterwards my clothes smelt as alluring as if they
had been sprayed with scent. Pinzho told me that
musk is very highly prized in Nepal as a cure for
snake-bite. When bitten, the idea is apparently to
cut the place and rub the musk into the wound.
He assured me that if that were done there would be
no ill effects beyond a feeling of sickness. He also
said that if a pinch of it were put into a snake’s mouth,
the snake would become quite helpless and floppy,
just as though it were hopelessly drunk. I tried that
out later on, and certainly the reptile was rather
dithery when I put it down again after giving it a dose ;
but since I had had to hold it very firmly by the
neck while opening its mouth, I am not sure that the
doddery effect was not brought about by a shortage
of air to a certain extent. However, the beast was,
as it were, palsied for some five minutes afterwards,
before coming to itself again in a passion of fury and
going all out for reprisals.

As we began to approach Sole, B. C. and I became
filled with a wild excitement. We yearned to see the
landmarks. At last our straining eyes picked out the
shrine, and sure enough there they were, gossiping

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away beside it just as we had hoped, the two fat men
and their cronies. We had felt sure they would
be; but there was just the chance that they might
have died or gone sick, which accounted for our
anxiety. It would have ruined our day if they had
been missing from their post when we arrived. They
welcomed us with beaming faces, and, rising heavily
to their feet, waddled beside us, panting and wheezing,
all that long half-mile to the house. That finished
them for the day. Exhausted, they lay on their
balcony, heaving with weak giggles and swallowing
down chang as fast as it was brought to them. How-
ever, despite their prostration, they did not forget to
send us in a large supply also, with the kind intimation
that there was plenty more when we wanted it.

A-k had said in his report that he had heard of a
nomad camp called Lepa, which was some twenty-
five miles up the valley of the Chong Hung Chu. I
thought it might be a good scheme to pay it a visit,
and decided to start off from Sole with Chimi and
three coolies, catching B. C. and Pinzho up again at
Toyul. We were told that Lepa was three marches
from Sole, over a very steep path, so B. C. said he
would be waiting for me on the sixth day after I left.
Chimi proved to be a most faint-hearted individual,
as things turned out. The thought of six days over
a bad piece of country was too much for him, now that
he had become corpulent in our service, and he
started to make all sorts of excuses to escape having to
take some exercise. First of all he said that Lepa was
full of bandits, who would certainly kill me if I
ventured anywhere near their lair, and followed this
up with many another lurid tale. Finally, when he

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saw that none of Ms ingenious stories had met with the
success they deserved, he told me, on the evening
before my start, that he wanted to leave in order to
look for work in Sangachu Dzong. As he had under-
taken to come with us at least as far as Rima, tMs was
extremely annoying, especially as it meant that on the
way to Lepa, besides having to work pretty hard
during the day in making the Route Traverse, I would
have to look after everything when we camped at
night, and do all my own cooking. To work as hard
as that was against my principles; but there was
notMng else for it.

The next day the three coolies and I started away
early in the morning. They were carrying my tent,
bedding-roll, and a box of stores (mostly rice, tsamba,
and tea) and cooking-pots. The fat men giggled
and waved as we left, their soft bodies wobbling with
> huge spasms of merriment. Two miles below Sole

we slithered over the river by the finest rope bridge I
had seen, two-way and perfectly new, with a line of
prayer-flags on each side stretching right across. One
of my coolies had a small dog to which he was extra-
ordinarily kind, and which was quite devoted to him,
though inclined to be surly with anyone else. When
we came to the bridge, the fellow decided it was better
not to drag the dog across, and left it on the bank.
Hardly had we reached the other side when we saw
it plunge bravely into the water, which was coming
down like greased lightning, and as cold as ice. It
was instantly twitched out of sight by the current.
We all gave it up for lost, and its master broke into
despairing sobs; but, to our astonishment, it came
running up ten minutes later, none the worse for the

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adventure, and as relieved as its owner that they had
found each other once more. I would never have
believed that anything short of an otter could have
swum across the river in that state of flood and have
reached the other side alive.

When the dog-fancier had recovered from his
emotion, we continued along an easy path to the small
village of Gala. So small a place was it, in fact, that
it only consisted of one house, and that not of the best.
It was about one o’clock when we arrived and went in
for refreshments. The lady of the house hurried up
to me with a bowl of what looked like cool and
beautiful chang. I took a deep draught, was smitten
breathless, and nearly killed myself with coughing.
It was hot arrack, and a more nauseatingly potent
drink I have never come across. Thank Heaven they
produced tea as well, to wash the taste away. My
hostess seemed mortified at my distress, coming so
quickly after the joy with which I had seized the cup,
and hastened to prepare me a good meal of scrambled
eggs and tsamba, which did much to atone for the
horror of that pseudo-chang. I then found, to my
gloom, that we had come to the end of a stage, and
that my coolies were leaving me there and returning
to Sole immediately. Apparently the idea was for
me to roost in Gala until the next morning ; but I
could not afford to lose all that time if I was to meet
B. G. on the appointed day, and insisted on fresh
transport being provided at once. There was nobody
available in Gala itself, and I went through a bad
hour before new coolies could be raked up from some-
where else. There seemed to be such a poor prospect
of finding them that for a long time it looked as if I

174 TIBETAN TREK

should be forced to waste the rest of the day, after all ;
but we did get away at last, and hurried along over a
good but hilly path to a point on the river-bank just
opposite Giwang, to put up the tent as night was
falling. We all shared the one fire to cook our rice.
The coolies flavoured their dinner with quantities of
red chillies (their mouths must have been like iron),
and I went rather a bust over mine by adding to it
half a tin of herrings in tomato sauce. The other
half came in for breakfast the next morning.

Those coolies of mine were very good workers,
pleasant and willing, and I had somehow taken it for
granted that they were coming all the way to Lepa
with me. I was in great spirits when we started off
again; but when we plunged down the side of the
Chong Hung Valley and, instead of turning up it,
went straight across and out again, horrible fore-
bodings of the truth came upon me. I asked them
where on earth we were off to, and was told only to
Pipa, two miles from our last camp. It was that
devilish stage system again. My spirits rose once
more when we reached the end of our walk; for Pipa
had two houses, and it seemed reasonable to suppose
that, as Gala had provided coolies in an hour, Pipa
should manage to do it with much less difficulty.
Shortly before we got there, we were met by a very
superior individual with two servants, who were all
riding along and driving a herd of some fifty ponies
before them on their way to Lepa. They stopped,
and though my Tibetan is hopelessly bad, we carried
on a conversation of sorts for a few minutes with
mutual goodwill. Then, saying they would look out for
me in Lepa, they yelled at the ponies and jingled away.

SMALL BEER 175

In spite of its miserable size, Pipa had a bigger
collection of fierce dogs, and more pigs than any
other place in the valley. We fought our way through
the Headman’s courtyard, dealing lusty blows to
right and left, and eventually reached sanctuary,
unbitten, in the house. There my hopes were finally
dashed to earth ; for it appeared that, after all, there
were no coolies to be had nearer than Latsa, and there
I had to sit all that day, bored stiff, and imagining
B. C. waiting for days at Tdyul before I should be
able to get back to him. There was a very old
Mishmi there from the Delei Valley, who, the Head-
man said, could speak Hindustani. I welcomed the
chance of having a heart-to-heart talk on life even
with a Mishmi, and sent for him.

An admiring crowd came in with the aged man,
squatting round in a circle and peering eagerly from
one to the other of us. The proceedings hung fire
a bit at first, so I made some cheery remark to start
them off. Somewhat vacantly the Mishmi said
“ Ah? ” I repeated my opening gambit very loud
and clear, and dimly the old dotard answered “ Eh? ”
and mumbled his toothless gums. By this time much
of the bright humour of what I was going to say had
grown rather stale; but, still undaunted, I bellowed
at him in a voice of thunder. He replied “ Yes,”
and fell into a doze, at which point I retired discom-
fited. It turned out that he was not only stone deaf,
but addle-pated, and that the audience, knowing
this well, had gathered to see the fun. They got full
value out of the show ; for they laughed and laughed
until their eyes were streaming and they gasped for
breath.

iy6 TIBETAN TREK

One good thing about this compulsory wait at Pipa
was that I was able to write a good many letters to
various people and get them off my mind. Of course,
there was no chance of sending them off until we
reached Fort Hertz, but, even so, it was something to
do, and it filled in the time quite effectively. The
coolies arrived in the evening — three husky great
fellows — and we left the town at eight o’clock in the
morning.

We had a long march that day of more than nine
hours, through thick forest and over the worst possible
sort of track. The Chong Hung was in flood, and
for the last half of the way we had to wade through
icy water up to our knees, sinking into mud at every
step, and tripping over roots and stumps, to the
great detriment of our feet and the ruination of our
tempers.

We halted for the night, between eight and nine
thousand feet high, at the bend in the valley where
the river turns more or less abruptly to the north.
There was a permanent camp there of three small huts,
built of boulders loosely piled on top of each other,
and roofed over with boards. The coolies and I
shared one of these huts, to economise in wood. We
were a bit tired of paddling, and to collect enough for
two fires would have meant going back for a quarter
of a mile or so, as the huts were in a large open space
covered with nothing but ferns. Huddled over the
blaze, we made a big meal of rice and boiled bracken
fronds, and then turned in. We were quite com-
fortable until our smoky little fire died down ; but as
soon as it faded away and the atmosphere grew clear,
the sand-flies gathered round in battalions and gave

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us (or rather me) a thin time of it. The coolies slept
with their heads covered in their long coats, and were
fairly well protected from attack; but after trying it
for a few minutes, I could not bear being muffled up
to that extent, and had to leave a small hole for air.
The little devils very soon discovered that, and came
swarming through, irritated at my having tried to
keep them out, and wreaking vengeance with a will.
Still worse, they effected an entrance at the other end,
and bit my feet until I was half crazy. It didn’t
seem as though I had more than two hours’ troubled
sleep that night, but I suppose I must have done, for,
contrary to my fears, I was full of life and vigour the
next morning.

When we woke up, the rain was pouring down in
torrents, so we waited for some hours, in the hopes
that it would clear up a bit; but no luck. We left
our hut at ten, and had an hour in which to get as
dribbling wet as we could, before, quite suddenly,
the rain stopped and a pale sun shone feebly through
the ceiling of mist which covered the hills and valley.
For the first three or four miles the going was just as
unpleasant as on the previous day, but after that we
started to climb very steeply, and the path became
gloriously dry. We toiled up and up for hours, and
finally we rose above the clouds into bright sunshine,
and looked down on a great heaving sea of white
which stretched away in every direction.

At sundown we reached the Lepa La, but, owing
to the deplorable fate of the barometer, and the fact
that the boiling-point apparatus was with Kingdon
Ward, it was not possible to work out the height
properly. However, by reckoning the distance we

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178

had climbed since Pipa, and by noting how far the
summit was above the tree-line, I estimated that the
pass was about thirteen thousand five hundred feet
high. On the west side of the pass, and a short way
below it, was a level stretch of ground littered with
immense grey rocks. A good many of these had small
but deep hollows on top, full of rain-water. Most of
them were just natural holes, but some had been cut
square and carefully finished off. My coolies chose
one such basin, and, standing on top of the rock to
face the pass, they dipped their hands in the water
and marked their foreheads, muttering prayers the
while. That seemed to conclude the ceremony, for
after it was done they picked up their loads again,
and we climbed to the top of the Lepa La, which was
only five yards long from end to end — a mere cleft in
a sharp and narrow ridge. To judge by the number
of prayer-flags flying there, and the large heaps of
stones that were piled up on both sides, a lot of traffic
must go to and fro by that route.

Crossing over, we scrambled for a thousand feet
down a precipitous path on the other side to a small
flat plain, some six hundred yards long, and there we
made our way to a large overhanging rock by the
banks of a stream, where we were going to spend the
night. The space under it was already occupied
by my friend the country gentleman and his two
servants, whom we had met near Pipa; but they
eagerly welcomed us in, and invited us to share their
fire of rhododendron branches, which spread a com-
forting glow all round. The seven of us managed to
squeeze in somehow, and we all set to work cooking
our rice, which took some time up there owing to the

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height. What intrigued the horse-owner more than
anything else was a tin of biscuits produced from my
stores box for a second course at dinner. He had some
eggs with him, and offered to trade them for Petit
Buerres, two biscuits for one egg. I fell in with his
suggestion and, as a result, had a fine meal of a rather
leathery omelette on rice, with three eggs left for
breakfast. I made him my friend for life by giving
him half a dozen biscuits over and above what I owed
him. He was much struck by their delicate flavour,
and gave his servants a treat of a half each. He was
also very thrilled by my bedding-roll, and asked me
to sell it to him, but, much as I liked him, that was
really rather more than I could manage.

We had not been under the rock for very long before
a dank and chilly mist came sweeping up from below,
and even with all my clothes on and three blankets
over me I was miserably cold all night. The Tibetans
had only their one garment each ; but, in the most
miraculous manner, they slept like babes till dawn,
as warm as toast. Next morning we left our rock in a
body, and started down the hill to Lepa. The herd
of ponies was left peacefully grazing on the little
plain, all except for one. My friend was riding that,
as he had a deformed foot, and could scarcely walk
at all, even having to be helped to get on and off
his mount. Nevertheless, he was a light-hearted soul,
with a great sense of humour.

Above the tree-line the open ground near the pass
was still gay with small rhododendrons, wine-colour,
purple, pink and scarlet, though they were past their
prime, and beginning to fade. Here and there were
patches of blue and yellow primulas, and there were

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180

numbers of small dark blue flowers popping out of
the grass, which to my untrained eye looked like
crocuses (or croci, whichever it is). Once we had
entered the forest again there were no more flowers to
be seen — nothing but pines. The path was rather
muddy and slippery, but it was not nearly so bad as
that on the other side of the Lepa La, and there was
never any difficulty about getting along. We halted
half-way down for a few minutes, and while the
coolies cooked themselves some tea, the horsey
gentleman did me the honour of sharing a piece of
my chocolate and smoking one of my cigarettes, of
which I still had five left.

Eventually, after four hours, we came to the bottom
of the valley at ten thousand feet. We crossed a
river twenty yards wide, called the Lepa Chu, by a
bridge of logs, and on the far bank saw a superb
mule-track leading up to the north. My friend told
me that it went to Sangachu Dzong, five days’
journey away, and that there were two high passes to
negotiate en route. For one wild moment I almost
decided to turn up that road and wander off to
Sangachu Dzong in the hope of seeing Kingdon Ward.
However, I suddenly realised that in the first place
I had only brought enough money with me to get to
Lepa and back; in the second, that Kingdon Ward
was certain to be still at Shiuden Gomba; and, in
the third, that it would be sure to cause unpleasant-
ness with the Governor, as I had been given leave to
go as far as the Ata Kang La only on condition that
I came back out of Tibet after that. In any case, it
was only a fleeting dream ; for I could not have gone,
on account of B. G. Had I been ten days late for

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my appointment with him, he and Pinzho would
have been scouring the country for my corpse. I
wish I could have managed it, though, all the same.
I was told also that, though the Lepa Ghu flowed
into the Zayul River not far above Rima, there was
such an impossible gorge lower down that it put any
idea of a path quite out of the question, and so the
only ways to Lepa were either from Sangachu Dzong or
by the path we had just come along.

Lepa itself was only a few hundred yards from the
bridge, and, far from being a nomad encampment, it
turned out to be a grand place of twelve houses, most
of them large and well built. There were some two
hundred head of cattle feeding near by, and the space
between the piles under the houses was built into
proper stalls for them, divided off from each other by
partitions of planks, and even fitted with doors.

When we reached the town, my proud spirit was
humbled not a little to find that while my companion,
who had a pony and two attendants, was treated with
the utmost respect and shown into the best room in
the place, I, with no personal servants at all (for
coolies do not count), was poked away in a filthy little
hovel built straight in front of a huge dunghill. Until
the funny side of it struck me, I was really rather
annoyed ; for ever since we had arrived in Tibet we
had been given, and had come to expect, the best
of everything as being our right. There in Lepa I
was taken at my true worth, and seen to be no more
than a stray, pale, and impoverished foreigner of no
account. But grimy and evil-smelling though my
lodgings were, the owner of the house was very kind,
and did his best to make me comfortable. He brought

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1 852

chang, and. some eggs, and even heated shaving- water
for me. My coolies asked to be paid off, as they were
going back that same afternoon; but before they
went they produced three others who were willing to
go with me the next morning, so I had no worries on
that score.

I discovered a lathe, but, after that, there was not
much else to inspect in Lepa, and deserting the town I
took a walk down the valley to see if I had not misunder-
stood things when I had been told there was no path
that way. I went through fields of ripe barley in
which the women were hard at work reaping, though
the corn in the Rong To Valley had been cut long
before. It was all rather stunted, and the cause of
this and the late ripening must, I think, have been lack
of sun, as ten thousand feet is quite low for barley.
The valley ran roughly north and south, fairly narrow,
with high steep sides, and I noticed that no sun struck
the village before half-past eight in the morning, and
that it had disappeared again over the hills by three-
thirty. The corn-fields ended a mile below the village,
and, sure enough, though I searched for some time,
there was no sign of any path beyond that.

While I was cooking my evening meal, the lame man
paid me a call, and sat with me for some time. He was
leaving for Sangachu Dzong the next day, and wanted
to say “ good-bye.” After his visit the whole attitude
of the people changed towards me, and my status
rose by leaps and bounds. If Dives could come to see
the stranger like that, perhaps the latter was not such
a miserable Lazarus after all; and, anyway, he was
a curious specimen, well worth inspection. Even
the Headman patronised my salon, which was crowded

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183

out with callers until late that night. Altogether I
was a roaring success, though I felt something like
the mandrill at the Zoo.

After a magnificent breakfast of four new-laid eggs
on rice, I summoned the coolies, and we departed.
Two of them were full-grown men, but the third was
not more than fourteen or fifteen years old. It took
us six and a half strenuous hours to reach the rock I
had slept under two nights before. On the way up
one of the men stepped off the path with a grunt of
pleasure and plucked a large and venomous-looking
toadstool, a brilliant orange in colour, and nine
inches across the stool. They peeled off the upper
part, leaving only a spongy mass of mouldy-looking^
greeny-yellow gills. Saying it was good to eat, they
immediately set to work on it with gusto; but,
though I ate a piece myself, I found it an overrated
delicacy, and not one to be recommended. It had a
strong and noxious flavour which could be tasted for
hours after, and was altogether rather loathsome.

When the coolies were asleep, it suddenly occurred
to me that I had completely lost sight of time, and that
I should have been meeting B. C. that very day.
Owing to the delays at Gala and Pipa I was a long
way behind schedule, and it was sad to think of B. C.
waiting gloomily at such a one-horse sort of place as
Toyul. Next morning I put the matter to my coolies.
At first they were all against hurrying ; but when I
made them understand they would be paid just the
same amount in wages as if they took two days, with
the addition of a goodly sum as an extra, they
grinned, and we started to move in dead earnest.
We reached the top of the pass at ten o’clock, rested

184 TIBETAN TREK

for a quarter of an hour, and then away we went at
a jog-trot, down the very steep slope into the Chong
Hung Valley and along that God-forsaken path at
the bottom. Except in the middle of the day, when
they halted for nearly an hour to have a meal of tea
and tsamba, the coolies never made a stop of longer
than one minute at a time. Before we had gone very
far, the boy began to get tired and to lag behind, and
the other two took it in turns every half-hour to act as
relief. One of them would run ahead and drop his
load by the side of the path, and then, sprinting back
to the little fellow, he would take the box from him
and together they would catch us up again. When
we reached the place where the man had put down
his burden, the boy took charge of it, so there was a
constant exchange of loads. Owing to the wet, both
the soles of my boots came adrift on the march, and
were only held on by the heels, from which they
flapped dismally at every step, while stones and things
played havoc with my feet.

With the coolies toiling like slaves, we came to
Pipa at half-past six in the evening. I was very tired
myself, though I had been carrying practically nothing
at all, and they were absolutely dead beat. So weary
were they, in fact, that, as soon as I had paid them,
they threw themselves on the floor and went straight
off to sleep. It was a fine show on their part, and I
wished very much that I knew enough of the language,
to be able to say what I thought of them, instead of
only being able to repeat somewhat inadequately and
with a fatuous smile, “ Very good ! Very good ! ”
They had trotted for nearly ten hours over the most
villainous path to cover more than twenty miles.

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I was tired enough to be in a poisonous temper,
and the affair of the boots had further irritated me,
so that when the Headman said, with an eye to the
letting of a room for the night, that there were no
coolies available to take me on to Toyul, I roared
“ Find some! ” with such concentrated fury that he
nearly jumped out of his skin. He fled for his life,
and came back in less than five minutes with two lads
and a Mishmi, all of whom he carefully drove in
front of him, peeping at me from behind the human
rampart with bulbous, affrighted eyes.

The four of us started away at once, and hurried
down to the rope bridge which spans the Rong To Chu
just below its junction with the Chong Hung. We were
held up there for nearly half an hour by the sad plight of
a very fat old Lama from Tacho Gomba. So enor-
mous was he, and so flabby, that he could not pull
himself across the bridge, which had a certain amount
of slope. When we got there, we found the poor old
man suspended in the middle, motionless and shrieking
blue murder, his strength having evaporated. One
of my coolies went out to him and pulled him back
with great difficulty. In the meantime another had
been sent to Pipa to find a rope. When this arrived
we tied the old Lama on to his slider again, and
securely fastened the rope to his waist. The coolies
and I went over first, taking the line with us, and
once on the far side, we heaved away until the old lad
was safely landed. He was pathetically grateful,
and gave us all his blessing. I cannot imagine why
he was trying to cross by himself. Faith may be
able to move mountains, but it would have needed a
powerful lot to have got that aged Lama over the river.

l86 TIBETAN TREK

The coolies had to go back to bring over the loads,
and by the time we were free to move on again it was
already pitch dark. We groped our way along for
a couple of hours, crashing into trees and wandering
lost among the brambles, until an outburst of ferocious
barking told us that we had struck Toyul at last.
The coolies shouted, and an old woman (on whom be
peace) got out of bed and brought down to us a pine-
torch and news of B. G. As luck would have it, he
was in the furthest house, over half a mile of flooded
paddy-fields. The path ran across the mud walls,
nine inches wide, which divided the fields, one from
another. I fell into the water many times, and with
my boot-soles flapping worse than ever, my progress
towards the house was marked by a series of un-
restrained and blasphemous remarks largely addressed
to the Mishmi, who was carrying the torch and who
seemed to be using it more for his own benefit than
for mine. B. C. heard me while we were yet afar off,
and, emitting a yell of good cheer, he woke Pinzho,
who somehow managed to have a chicken fried and
ready by the time I staggered in at half-past ten.
The first thing I thought of was how marvellous it was
to have B. C. to talk to again, and the next how very
wonderful to be eating a meal I had not had to cook
myself.

CHAPTER TWELVE
THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE

“ Rice they eat and make of it sundry messes, besides a kind of drink
which is very clear and good, and makes a man drunk just as wine does.”

Marco Polo.

All the next day we stayed in Toyul. My tummy
had gone back on me, and I was feeling like nothing
on earth, with dark suspicions flitting from dysentery
to appendicitis and back again. Once more B. C.
turned physician, prescribing a diet of slops, biscuits,
and chlorodyne, and on these I existed for the next
forty-eight hours, to my great ultimate benefit. The
slops consisted for the most part of egg-nogg, made
with “ Ideal ” milk, which was excellent, and the
local eggs, which were not so good, together with a
dash of our carefully treasured rum. The taste of
the latter hid that of the eggs, and the potion was
almost delicious enough to atone for the misery of
my distressful condition.

B. C. had been joined at Giwang by a “ police-
man” who had been sent from Sangachu Dzong by
the Governor to protect our interests, and to see
that we had no trouble with coolies or anything else.
He was a delightful old fellow, of about fifty or so,
with a long and straggly moustache, and was most
zealous in carrying out his orders. These he inter-
preted as meaning that he was to induce everybody

in the vicinity to come forward with hens, butter, or

187

l88 TIBETAN TREK

whatever else we wanted. He had a withered leg,
and although he could stump about quite comfort-
ably in the house, still, like my friend of the Lepa
Road, he had to ride whenever he went outside.
On horseback he was always to be seen careering
along at a full gallop, sitting very erect in the saddle,
a martial figure, with his long sword in its shagreen
scabbard tucked into his belt.

Our room in that village was the home of more
fleas than we had ever before seen in so small a space.
i B. C. was firm in his conviction that I had brought
them with me from Lepa, and I, having had no
trouble since I had left him in Sole, was equally
certain that they had been imported by him. In
the end, as the result of a long discussion during the
evening, we came to the conclusion that they were
probably indigenous to the house, and that in any
case our best policy was to vamoose as soon as we
could, if we wanted to get any rest at night.

Accordingly, the following morning we shook the
dust of Toyul from our feet, and plodded off to Dri.
It was the most lovely hot day, with blazing sun-
shine all the time, and as we walked through the
forest, the sweet smell of old pine-needles was drawn
up from the ground by the warmth, filling the air
with heavy fragrance. Under normal circumstances
all this would have made me swing along as cheer-
fully as B. C., who was in great heart; but, owing to
my internal dissensions, I moved as feebly and with
as little enjoyment as “ an aged aged man,” and was
more than pleased when at last we reached Dri, and
I could lie down to rest. That was the village the
inhabitants of which had been so boorish on our way

THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE 189

up with Kingdon Ward. Nothing could have ex-
ceeded their friendliness now, however. They all
came trooping out of their houses to bow to us when
we arrived, and one unfortunate little boy who stood
gazing at us without doffing his hat was given a
resounding cuff by his mother for so rudely forgetting
his manners. On account of the theft of the stores
box, the “ policeman ” was inclined to be rather
down on the villagers in Dri, and when two or three
people had come in and, without much enthusiasm,
had offered us chickens and eggs for nothing, we
suspected that he was at the bottom of it all, gently
persuading them with threats of greater punishment
than they had already suffered. So we left and
moved on to Sachong. Anyway, there was nothing
for us to do in Dri, and we were a burden on the
populace.

We had ponies for this stage, having largely for-
gotten the discomforts of riding, during the last three
months. B. G.’s nag was ill disposed towards us all.
It began the day by violently assaulting a coolie for
no obvious reason, and later, when induced to be
peaceful, it became sullen, and frequently caused
confusion in the ranks by stopping dead in the middle
of the path, generally when we were climbing out of
a ravine and there was no room to walk round the
beast. On such occasions B. C. belaboured it ener-
getically with a stout switch, but the mulish animal
could see each blow descending, and steeled itself
stoically against the pain, refusing even to flinch. It
stood there, sardonically leering at all within sight,
and from time to time turning round to take a vicious
snap at its outraged rider’s foot. Eventually we dis-

TIBETAN TREK

igO

covered that the only thing to be done was for me to
creep up behind and land it a welt, all unexpected
like. This took the beast by surprise, and, snorting
loudly, it would dash off. As secrecy was an essential
part of the programme, it invariably meant that B. C.
was taken off his guard just as much as the pony, so
that, with a howl, he would fling his arms around its
neck in a Gilpinesque manner, and vanish moaning
up the path. Nevertheless, he set us all an example
of courage and determination by steadfastly refusing
to dismount, remarking that with that creature there
was no saying that once down he would ever be able
to get up again.

Just after the start of this march, a Mishmi ap-
proached me with a Yunnan parrakeet, which he
willingly exchanged for a rupee. He introduced his
wife to us with pride, as being the discoverer of the
murdered courier. She was an unattractive wench
with a goitre, a wart on her nose, and a missing front
tooth. She was conspicuous for filth and squalor
even among the coolies, none of whom had washed
for years, and she had the impudence to ask for five
rupees as a reward for her find. I christened the
bird Timothy (though, in point of fact, we were
doubtful as to whether it were a cock or a hen), in
memory of a tortoise of that name which had been
the close companion of my brother and self for many
years, until one day it vanished among the cabbages
in the garden, and was never again seen of man.
Now that I come to think of it, the sex of the tortoise
was also a matter of conjecture.

Timothy rode most of the way to Sachong on my
shoulder, squawking at intervals, and chewing my

THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE igi

ear in a friendly way whenever he got bored. I had
a string tied from my wrist to his leg, though at first
I did not think it was necessary, as he was so tame.
Flocks of his brethren passed overhead quite often,
however, with loud shrieks, and each time they came
he tried to join them, string or no string. I loved him
dearly, but felt that it was hard on him to be forced
to lead a lonely life away from his fellows, and so the
following morning I set him free. Unbound, he sat
for some time on my shoulder, preening his feathers,
and then changed his perch to my hand. When
nearly ready to go he hopped to the window-sill,
where I fed him on bits of biscuit. A few more
finishing touches, and off he went. He kept near the
house for the rest of the day, but in the evening, with
a farewell squawk, he flew north to join his friends of
the previous day.

Incidentally, there seemed to be large numbers of
the loathly Mishmis in the Rong To Valley, most of
them with their wives. We were always seeing them,
and there were about a dozen in Sachong alone.

We spent two days there, as B. C. had some pictures
he wanted to take and the sun was stubborn. Even
though the weather was dull, it was pretty hot, and
Pinzho conceived the brilliant notion of buying us a
cucumber. Rather rashly, he told us of his inten-
tion before sending for the largest specimen in Sachong.
There was a long delay, but at last it was brought
in, an immense fellow nearly four inches long! Not
only was it the biggest in the place, but the only one
for miles! Pinzho was much distressed, feeling that,
after all his promises of a refreshing cucumber salad,
he had been made to look a fool; but actually,

192 TIBETAN TREK

though there was not much flesh on the thing, it
was extremely sweet and good, and we enjoyed our
two mouthfuls so much that he quickly cheered up.
My tummy returned to normal routine, and I was
able to dig into the rice again, with as much zest as
ever.

From Sachong over the rope bridge to Shigatang
took only four hours. The latter was a changed
place. The Governor had returned to Sangachu
Dzong, taking his camp followers with him, and
the village was nearly empty, with the houses
already beginning to tumble down. Indeed, it
reminded us irresistibly of a modern version of Noah’s
Ark; for all we saw there on our first evening were
two hags, two venerable men, two asses, two goats,
two small and rotund pigs, two moulting fowls, and
two houses in occupation. To be strictly truthful, a
few other figures showed themselves in the morning,
rather to our disappointment.

B. C. and I had bought six or seven tea-bowls each
in Ata, and, having seen some very superior ones
lined with silver on our way down the valley, we had
meant to get the Governor’s silversmith to do the
same for ours. They would have made good Christ-
mas presents ; but of course he had gone back to
Sangachu Dzong with the others, so we were left
lamenting.

We took up our abode in the house which had
been used by the Girl-friend, with Pinzho and the
kitchen next door in one of the Lama’s rooms. Our
apartment was adjoining that in which we had had the
famous party, and was very comfortable, though a
bit dilapidated. The windows had originally been

The Di Chu Valley (p. 197).

THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE IQg

covered with oiled paper, but this was now hanging
in tatters, crackling and rustling eerily in the bight
wind. Even the paper which had been gaily stuck
over the walls was full of jagged holes, through
which we could see great bloated spiders gazing out,
and sometimes catch glimpses of frisky cockroaches.
The floor was swarming with tiny red ants. They
made short work of any scraps which fell from our
plates, and of the moths and insects which blundered
into the candle at night. Scouts were always hurry-
ing about, and as soon as they found anything edible
and too big to manage by themselves, they made all
speed back between two of the boards to the nest.
In a couple of minutes, a long line came winding out
over the floor, with twiddling antennae. It never
took long for them to find the treasure, and then,
with every ant lending a hand, it was carried and
dragged along to their home. Their greatest triumph
was when they succeeded in removing an entire
grasshopper, nearly five inches long. The booty was
too big to pass through the crack between the boards,
so a detachment of much bigger ants was called
out. These last were darker and had enormous
jaws. They set to work with tremendous energy,
and had soon neatly dismembered the carcass, which
was afterwards carried away piecemeal until not a
morsel remained. We had a lot of fun watching
them, seeing how scientifically they worked, and how
little effort was wasted in anything they did.

On the hundred and fifty-fourth day since leaving
Sadiya we had our first baths! That does not mean
that we had five months’ grime to remove, for we
had been able to wash a bit at a time when it was

194 TIBETAN TREK

not too cold; but, even so, we were pretty grubby.
It was B. C.'s ingenuity which made this glorious
treat possible. He rigged up a superb bath out of a
ground-sheet, with the sides held in position by boxes.
It gave us three or four inches of water to play around
in, and we simply revelled in it. We tossed up for
who should be first. I won, and found it so wonder-
ful to be able to wet myself all over that, getting in
at two, I stayed there till after four o’clock.

The only trouble about that bath was that it had
no plug. When I did finally deign to get out, Pinzho
had to empty it with a cup, which took so long that
it was not until half-past five that B. G. could use it.
We were inspired by this incredible feeling of clean-
liness to put on fresh shirts, shorts and stockings, and,
after a shave, we blossomed into a pair of sparkling
figures. We stayed for some days in Shigatang,
and the bath became a feature of our daily lives to
such an extent that we had to engage an extra man
as water-boy, and there was hardly a moment when
somebody’s bath was not heating over the kitchen
fire. One of the local bumpkins raked up a box of
five hundred cigarettes, which were a bit stale and
damp; but to us, who were all dressed up and spot-
less, they were just what we wanted to complete our
enjoyment. They were even cheaper than the “ Red
Lamp ” brand, and were made, as far as I remember,
in Bangalore.

Coming down the Rong To Valley, we had been
enjoying a break in the monsoon, and did not have
any great amount of rain; but in Shigatang the
weather changed for the worse, and most of the time
it was pouring wet, though decidedly warm. We

THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE 195

had collected seven fowls on the way down, and the
damp heat of the place made it imperative to kill
them the same day on which they were to be eaten.
With no chance to hang, those birds were as tough
and leathery as old boots, and they gave B. C. plenty
of exercise for his jaws — exercise for which he had
been praying for months past. Apart from the work
they gave him, I do not believe there was much
virtue in those chickens. They tasted like pieces of
rubber, and probably did us just about as much
good. What we lost on the hens we made up in
other ways, though, for Pinzho was able to buy a
cat-fish on two occasions, which lasted us for a whole
day at a time. They had an excessive number of
bones, but except for that were as tasty as fish could
be. What was more, by devious means he acquired
some unripe peaches, which he served up stewed,
with “ Ideal ” milk custard (there were no cows left
in Shigatang). My mouth waters still when I think
of them. Unripe they were ; but they seemed sweet,
and were certainly full of juice. After all, sweetness
is only a matter of comparison. We had not had
much sugar for many a long day, and by the time
we reached Shigatang it was difficult to find anything
which tasted sour.

Our pleasure was rather spoilt by the mosquitoes,
which were very plentiful, and which grew ever more
numerous as the rain kept on. We fished out the net
Kingdon Ward had bequeathed to us, and decided (not
without heart-burnings, for it was a beautifully fine
one) to cut it in half, so that both of us could get a
certain degree of protection at night. Half a net looks
much smaller than it ought to, somehow, and we

I96 TIBETAN TREK

were both a shade dubious as to our wisdom in
cutting it when we saw the result. However, the
pieces did their work, after a fashion. We fixed
them up with sticks and bits of string to make little
tents over our heads, and, guarded in that way, we
could sleep more or less free from intrusion, although
it was very stuffy, for at the most the nets were
not more than a foot away from our faces. We
always found a couple of dozen gorged mosquitoes
inside when we woke up in the mornings; but that
was infinitely better than the couple of hundred we
should have had feasting on us otherwise.

It was a very odd feeling to be practically the only
inhabitants of the village. We wandered about the
place finding nothing but empty houses, the roofs
already falling to bits, and tall weeds growing in the
doorways and through the windows, with never a
living soul to be seen. The few decrepit old people
who had been left behind spent their days in the
compound of our house, crouched on the ground,
and apparently brooding incessantly over their wrongs.
They were quite invisible to anyone not actually in
the courtyard itself. This lack of life made it very
difficult to obtain coolies.

The “ policeman ” had come to us the evening we
arrived in Shigatang, and had said that, as his orders
were only to see us as far as that, he was going back
immediately. Thus he was no longer there to issue
peremptory commands to all and sundry to come
and serve under our banner. The batch of coolies
we had had from Sachong would not work on a
route which was the monopoly of the Shigatang
district, and so we had to collect two or three men

THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE I97

from Rima and send them to all the outlying villages
to pick up anyone who seemed fit enough to carry a
load, and who was willing to work. At last twenty-
nine were gathered in, the biggest collection of
scallywags we had seen. Pondering over them, it
was easy to realise that Rima had been the Devil’s
Island of Tibet not so many years before. There
were only two respectable-looking fellows in the
whole bunch, and they had come all the way from
Shiuden Gomba.

When Kingdon Ward had made his record journey
from Sole to Shigatang, and had found that B. C.
and I would have to start back before very long, he
was practically certain that we would have to go
via Burma, and had arranged coolie rates with the
Governor for the route up the Di Chu Valley. From
Shigatang to the first camp on the far side of the
Diphuk La was seven marches, and, the regular price
being five trangkas a day for each coolie, it was
decided that six rupees per man for the whole journey
was fair. That gave them an extra trangka each.
After a certain amount of argument, our coolies
agreed to accept those terms, and we fixed on the
fifth morning for our departure. They said they
needed several days to collect food for the road, and,
as some of them lived ten or twelve miles away, four
days seemed a reasonable time for them to make all
arrangements.

Talking of food, reminds me that we had a terrible
blow when we arrived in Shigatang. Kingdon Ward
had left a hundred and twenty pounds of rice for us
in two sacks, which were to last us to Fort Hertz,
as he had found, from bitter experience, that to all

TIBETAN TREK

198

intents and purposes there was nothing at all to be
got down the Nam Tamai in Burma. On investigat-
ing, we found that the rice in one of the sacks had
gone so mouldy that it was quite useless except to
feed our chickens, and even they did not seem to
enjoy it, complaining with dismal clucks whenever
we fed them. The worst part of the business was
that there was no more to be had in the neighbour-
hood. The new crop was not yet ripe, and the people
said they were running a bit short themselves, and
could not spare any. So we fixed our hopes on the
possibility of there having been a bumper year along
the Nam Tamai, and stopped worrying.

On the morning of August the 12 th, the day we
were due to leave, we had a slight earthquake, which
lasted for three or four seconds and upset our early tea.
We felt it was a bad omen, and, sure enough, soon
afterwards a Humble Petition and Advice was brought
into us, to say that the coolies needed still more time to
collect provender, and to ask if we would consent to
wait a further three days. In point of fact, though
they were very polite about it, we had little choice in
the matter; for if we had said no, they must come
straight away, they would simply have replied that it
was impossible and would have gone on strike, and
then we should have been sunk. If they had struck,
there would have been only two courses open to us:
either to have remained indefinitely in Shigatang
without coolies, or to have lost face by knuckling under
to them. We resigned ourselves to another spell of
boredom with nothing to do, and took up Patience
again and even Rummy.

I had always felt it must have been very embarrass-

THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE 1 99

ing in the Good Old Days, when people kept falling
down before you and beseeching you for this and that;
but when I was suddenly besought in that way myself,
it turned out to be even worse than I had imagined.
One afternoon I was optimistically playing Monte
Carlo, when Pinzho came in with the news that there
was a visitor to see me. I supposed it was another
coolie, come to say that they did not want to go, after
all, and rather drearily told him to summon whoever
it was. He beckoned from the door with a lordly air,
and immediately a girl rushed in with flapping clothes
and flung herself on the ground before me, clasping my
feet in a vice-like hold, but saying never a word. For
one magnificent moment I knew what it felt like to be
an Eastern potentate, and tried hard to remember
my proper cue ; but I could think of nothing else but,
“ Rise, Sir Somebody Something.” Then, in a
flash, I felt a fool. This sudden deflation of my
spirits was largely due to the string of pungent remarks
which came from B. C., who was hugely enjoying him-
self in the corner. In a frenzy of bashfulness I began to
struggle to get free, red and sweating with horror, and
muttering “ Let go ! let go ! ” At last, and still in
silence, she released my feet and knelt sadly on the
floor, with tearful eyes fixed on my face. It struck me
then that she was quite pretty in a way, and I started
to perk up a little, and even to enjoy myself once more,
until a grim word of warning from B. C. brought me
back to my senses : “If you don’t do something
quickly, she’ll have you in a grip again ! ” I shuffled
hurriedly out of reach, and snappily asked Pinzho
what the devil she wanted. He passed on the question,
and she swamped him in a torrent of words, from

which there presently emerged the fact that her
mother, who lived nine miles away, was having a bad
attack of rheumatism, and that she was pinning her
faith on me — of all people ! — for a cure. Rather than
go through another distressing scene like the last, I ran-
sacked my boxes and loaded her with liver pills,
chlorodyne and instructions — in fact, samples of every-
thing I had, including quinine — so that, burdened
with medicine, she went happily home again. I hope
her mother got better. It is a great thing to be looked
upon as an expert in anything, and I should hate to
think that my name might now be mud in her home
town.

Ants are all very well, but you cannot make pets of
them — or, at least, if you do, they do not seem to give
you much affection, and we soon got rather tired of
them. But just as we were discussing whether we
should collect a pair of crickets or not, and train them
to be our playmates, we were adopted by a rat. His
name was Rupert, a very nice, clean-looking beast,
sleek, and with beady black eyes. He began the
friendship by galumphing over us at night, and then,
when he found that we did not object particularly, he
took to trotting out at breakfast-time to take the bits of
chapatti we gave him. If anyone else came into the
room, he vanished behind one of B. G.’s camera boxes
until the coast was clear again. After a bit he grew so
tame that when we stood on the veranda in front of
the house hoping to see signs of fine weather, he would
creep about in the doorway just behind us, waggling
his whiskers and twitching his nose. We grew very
fond of Rupert; but we are afraid he came to a bad
end. At any rate, he was reported missing one morn-

THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE 201

ing at breakfast, and was never seen from that day on.
If he had been all right, we were certain that nothing
would have induced him to miss his chapatties.

By the time the coolies turned up all ready to go,
B. C. had discovered some shots he simply had to take,
and so we told them that, as we had waited a week for
them, they could jolly well hang on a couple of days
for us. To show that there was no ill-feeling, however,
we advanced them a rupee each out of their wages, as a
retaining fee. Of course, now that there was something
to be filmed, the rain came down worse than ever,
until we were almost in despair. I was still further
disgruntled by a horrible accident which happened
during dinner one evening. I had one beautiful
tooth, and one only, in my head. The others had
been patched up and filled for years; but that one
was a shining white porcelain crown, right bang in
front, and the pride of my life. We were having a
celebration meal that night, to celebrate all the rain,
and the menu included corn cobs with butter. Hardly
had I set to work on my cob when there was a funny
feeling in my mouth, and, lo and behold, I was tooth-
less ! B. C. did his utmost to jam it in with seccotine,
but the glue tasted foul, and anyway it failed to hold
it in; so for the next four months (until I got back to
London) I had to go about with a gap in my face
which felt half a mile wide, whistling whenever I tried
to say a word with an F in it.

Shortly after that deplorable incident, a great
brawny fellow came in who said that he wanted to go
down to Sadiya as soon as the road was dry enough to
travel over, and asked if I would write a letter to the
Political Officer there for him to carry with him. It

all seemed a bit involved to me, and I could not see
what my writing a letter had to do with his journey;
but it appeared that he had been the local executioner,
so to speak, when the Governor was in residence, and
that among his jobs had been that of flogging several
Mishmis for minor offences against the law. Not
without some reason on that account, he felt that the
victims bore him a grudge, but was sure that if he were
carrying a letter addressed to the Political Officer, it
would act as a safe conduct, and would probably get
him through. We thought him rather too hopeful,
but it was a good opportunity for writing a long-
overdue letter to Crace, even though the chances were
all against it ever reaching him. We handed it over
to the would-be courier, and wished him the best of
luck, thinking he would need all our good wishes
before he finished. I cannot believe it was really due
to the letter, but it still remains that when I got back
to England I heard from Sadiya that it had been
delivered five months after it was written, quite safe
and sound.

Though it amazed us at the time, we did eventually
get a few short bursts of sun, which just gave B. G. long
enough to take his pictures. Once they were done
there was nothing more to keep us there, and, sending
for our coolies, we made up our minds to leave on
August the 1 8th. The great morning came, and we
packed up all our goods and doled out a load to each
coolie as he arrived. By nine o’clock, nineteen were
ready for the march, so we let them go, with orders to
make camp near the mouth of the Di Chu Valley, and
to wait for us there. The other ten did not show up,
and once again, though very annoyed about it, we had

THE IMPORTUNATE FEMALE 203

to put off the start. We sent a man to find the laggards,
with a stern message calling them to their duty.
They came along that night unabashed ; but by that
time it was far too late to dream of moving. In the
meanwhile, we discovered that, by hopeless mis-
management, we had allowed my bedding and Pinzho’s
to go on ahead. It was a sickening moment when we
first noticed it! Having had no exercise for some
days, I made up my mind to chase them myself, and set
off down the valley at enormous speed. A few miles
below Rima was a small stream, the Lat Te, which we
had been able to wade through when we had first
arrived in April. When I got to it that afternoon, it
was a roaring torrent, deep and wide, spanned by a
short rope bridge, some fifteen yards long. Needless to
say, I had no slider, for no one had mentioned a word of
any bridge before I had started. The only thing to do
was to swing over like a monkey; but not for any
number of bedding-rolls would I do it again. That
rope was a snare of the worst kind. It looked smooth
and inviting ; but, by the time I was across, my hands
were as full of fine splinters as a pincushion is of pins.
However, I caught up the main body of coolies shortly
after, and found Pinzho’s bed. My own had gone on
still further, and, giving up the hunt myself, I sent a
man, though without much hope, to try to find it and
bring it back. The coolie who was carrying Pinzho’s
bundle lent me his slider to cross the Lat Te, and I
threw it back to him when I was once over. By half-
past eight there was still no sign of my bed, and we felt
certain that it would not arrive at all. I was already
stretching myself out on the floor with a tent for a
pillow, beating at mosquitoes and resigned to a grisly

204 ■ TIBETAN TREK

night of discomfort, when the sound of voices was
heard outside, and an old coolie came in, dripping
with sweat, but triumphantly carrying the missing
blankets. When I joyfully gave him a tip of eight
annas, he was quite flabbergasted, and nearly broke
himself in half bowing. All was now set for an early
start next morning, so B. C. and I rolled up in bed and
slept the sleep of the righteous without another care
in the world.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ZOOLOGICAL SPA

<c O Thou who didst with pitfall and with gin
Beset the Road I was to wander in.”

Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam,

August the 19th is another date never to be forgotten,
for on that day we actually left Shigatang at last.
We were both heartily sick of doing nothing, and after
ten days of utter idleness were overjoyed to be on the
move again. Except for those two or three pictures
which B. C. had wanted, all the work to be done there
had been finished before we started up the Rong To
Valley in April, and during the last week of our stay
we got to the point of feeling rather guilty whenever
we sat down to our meals. We were doing so little
to deserve them that we might just as well have been
pigs in a sty, guzzling and lolling about from morning
till night.

It was a fine but sunless day when we set off, and
we decided to let the coolies get on in front of us, as
they did not travel very fast, and we thought it would
do us good to hurry after them. We gave them half
an hour’s start before taking up the chase. They
seemed to have covered an enormous distance in that
time, for we could only see them as a few minute
specks away down the valley, and even with our

desire for exercise it depressed us to think how long it

205

206 TIBETAN TREK

was going to take to catch them up. The whole place
was covered with cattle- tracks, and we picked out
one which looked as if it might be a short cut. A
fatal thing to do, for, after going about a mile, we got
absolutely lost, and found ourselves forlornly plunging
around in a wilderness of tall shrubs and thorn bushes,
with never a sign of any sort of track at all, not even
the one we had come by. At length we saw a small
hillock a few hundred yards away crowded with
children from Rima, all watching us and wondering
what on earth we were up to. By dint of shouting
and many signs, we finally made them understand
that we were bushed, and a couple of small boys ran
down to help us. Chuckling with glee, they took us
to the main path, which was not more than fifty yards
from where we were standing. After that we made a
very sedate march and camped seven hours later on a
small grassy plateau near the mouth of the Di Chu
Valley, a quarter of a mile across and three hundred
feet above the river. Mosquitoes were buzzing about
in clouds, and we discovered that we could not fix up
our patent nets in the tents, try as we might. We
were also very short of smoke coils, and had to go
sparingly with what we had left. It turned out,
though, that if we burnt an inch of coil in our tents
with the flaps open, just before we went to bed, the
mosquitoes all shot out in a body, and then, by quickly
shutting the door behind them, we bewildered them so
thoroughly that not very many found their way in
again. By arranging things like that, the tents became
just about as efficacious as our nets, so we did not lose
much by not being able to put up the latter. If
anything, we gained, because, though we found it

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207

fairly stuffy with every crack sealed tightly up, we had
more air than when we slept with our heads under
those erections of netting.

Three of our coolies had come fully armed with
antique matchlocks, most incredible weapons, and
accompanied by mongrel hunting-dogs. The guns
had been made by wiring four feet of stout iron pipe
on to a roughly shaped and massive piece of wood.
The trigger was a piece of bent metal shoved through
the stock and ending in a clip to hold the slow match.
When you pulled it, the match was pressed down on the
priming hole. Near the muzzle were two long iron
prongs. These, when pulled forward, acted as a rest.
There were no sights, of course. The barrel was about
half an inch in diameter, and the bullet a great ball of
lead. Itinerant powder-makers plied a brisk trade
in the valley (we passed two on our way down from
Ata), and for wadding a scrap of rag was jammed in
with a bamboo. The proud owners of the weapons
used often to take them out for target practice in the
evenings, firing at trees. It was a big business. They
generally begged matches from us to light the wicks
they had fixed to the triggers, and then, having loaded
the things, they would lie down, open the prongs, and
point the guns at the log. The slow match was care-
fully lit, powder poured into the priming hole, and the
trigger pulled. An enormous report rang out as each
gun went off, but never by any chance did we see
them hit the right target. However, the mere fact
of having these arms, and being able to shoot, gave
the marksmen a tremendous amount of prestige, and
not for anything would they have parted with them.
Equally not for anything would I have fired one.

TIBETAN TREK

208

They looked as if they might blow to bits every time
they were used.

The next morning we started off in heavy drizzle,
and made a very steep climb of fifteen hundred feet
round and up the side of the Di Chu Valley. It was
reminiscent of the Ata Ghu Gorge in a way, being very
narrow, and with precipitous walls rising to a couple
of thousand feet above the river; but the sides were
not so sheer, and were covered with dense forest.
The path was rotten. It was only about a foot wide,
and was frequently blocked by fallen trees, or over-
grown by thick bushes, so that many times we had to
leave it and wade along by the edge of the river, until
we could pick it up again. It all made progress very
slow and tedious. We had trouble also in finding
places in which to camp, as the walls of the valley
were so steep that it was difficult to discover a level
spot large enough to hold even our two small tents,
let alone to provide room for Pinzho and the coolies.
The first night we camped in the forest at seven
thousand feet or thereabouts, not more than a few
feet above the river. When we had turned into the
valley, we had been nearly two thousand feet above it,
so we worked out that the Di Chu, for the last few
miles of its course, had the astonishing gradient of
about four hundred feet a mile, dashing down into
the main river in an almost unbroken cataract.
Higher up, the gradient became much less. After
that first camp near the mouth of the valley, we found
no more mosquitoes until we were well into Burma;
but exchanged them for blister-flies, which were really
much less of a nuisance, as they did not worry us at
night.

ZOOLOGICAL SPA 20g

We continued our journey, climbing steadily up,
and never far from the river. B. G. and I were at the
end of the line, when suddenly, in the middle of the
day, there was a commotion in front, and everybody
stopped. No one near us seemed to know what it
was all about, so I strolled ahead to see what was
happening. The foremost coolies were standing in a
terrified group, speechless with horror, and simply
goggling at something a few yards away by the side of
the path. I pushed through the little crowd and found
a snake sitting peacefully and happily in a bush.
Foreigners are not allowed to kill anything in Tibet;
but I did not see that there was any law against catch-
ing a snake alive. Tibetans as a race are terrified of
snakes, and the coolies would neither pass it nor go
anywhere near, so something had to be done. Accord-
ingly, to the accompaniment of warning cries from the
spectators, I distracted the beast’s attention with a
handkerchief and grabbed it by the neck. As a matter
of fact, it had just had a meal, was comfortably replete,
and made no fuss. It was a green viper of sorts,
about three feet long, with glittering dark brown eyes,
and it seemed a good plan to try to bring it back for
the Zoo. It was very torpid and showed no inclina-
tion to bite, so, having no other place to put it, I
popped it inside my shirt. It was very contented
there, lying curled up against my stomach and some-
times peering out to have a look at the weather. I
called it Sally, largely because I was feeling the need
of female companionship, and she grew to be the
friend of my bosom in very truth. Moreover, even
when she became frisky and energetic again, she never
once struck at me. B. G. could not bring himself to

210

TIBETAN TREK

love her as I did, though he became more or less used
to her after a time, and as for the coolies, they were
struck all of a heap by my carrying her around.
They went about with their eyes fixed fearfully on my
shirt, dreading to see her head appear for a moment’s
breath of air, and chattering like monkeys if it ever
did.

That evening we came to a small shelter, and, as
there was no room for tents, we used that instead,
ejecting a large family of stick insects which had
made it their home. They are pleasant creatures,
though stupid, and we only turned them out because
we knew full well that half of them would get squashed
in the night if we left them alone. The coolies were
scattered about near at hand, wherever they could
find level places large enough to hold them and stop
them rolling down the slope in the night. Sally had
a small basket all to herself.

After leaving that hut, we made a suspiciously
short march to a place which the coolies said was the
only possible camping-ground, as the next one was
miles and miles away. This was now the fourth day
since leaving Shigatang, and we did not seem to
have come very far on our journey, so when we halted
that night I asked the men how much longer they
expected to take to the camp over the pass. They
said five more days, making nine in all. With
Pinzho as interpreter, I told them that that suited
us all right, and that whether they took seven days,
as arranged, or seventy, did not make the least
difference; but I gently reminded them not to forget
that they were being paid for the trip, and not by
the day. That seemed to strike home, and they

became very annoyed, gathering round in such a
threatening crowd that I was very grateful for the
moral support given me by B. C., who sat by me
throughout, stolidly gnawing at a piece of chocolate.

At this stage of the proceedings, the two men from
Shiuden Gomba came over to our side, which showed
considerable strength of mind on their part, as they
were only two among twenty-nine. The rebels now
said that they intended to be paid a rupee a day
each for as long as they chose to take. We thought
that a pretty cool suggestion, and told them so in no
measured terms; so then they informed us that they
would refuse to take our baggage any further, and
that, as soon as we had given them what we owed
for the distance they had already come, they would
go back. Once again we had to point out that they
were not entitled to a red cent until they brought us
right into Burma, and that if they went back they
did so unpaid. They began to get a bit obstreperous
then, largely because Pinzho pushed one man’s face
in for having made some offensive remark, so we
sent them off to argue by themselves, patted the two
faithful ones on the back, and sat down to a rather
gloomy meal.

The actual money involved in the dispute was
nothing at all, amounting at the most to two or
three pounds; but if we had once given way to them
we should have had no more control at all, and they
would have continued striking for more and more
ridiculous things. We felt tolerably sure that they
would give in before long ; but, in case they did not,
and deserted us, we started to think out the position,
which would have been awkward. Had they gone

back then, the five of us would have been left stranded,
with all our goods and chattels, miles from the nearest
village or food supplies, and with no hope of getting
transport from any place nearer than Haita, two
marches beyond the Dipb.uk La. We could not very
well dump everything and push on into Burma, with
the idea of sending back coolies from there, as most
of the loads were made up of the films which B. C.
had taken since leaving Sadiya. These were too
valuable to be left alone, in case the mutineers returned
to see what they could steal, and opened the cases to
find out what was inside.

Eventually we decided that if the worst came to
the worst, either B. C. or I would stay there on guard
over the boxes, while the rest of the party hurried
along to Haita to send back assistance, carrying with
them as much baggage as they could. We thought
that the presence of a white man on the Burma side
of the pass would encourage the natives, who might
be hesitant about coming over on the word of a stray
Tibetan coolie. But, as things turned out, there was
no need to worry; for that night at ten o’clock the
miscreants came along, beaming with friendliness, and
said that they would be very pleased to hold to the
bargain we had made in Shigatang, but would we of
our kindness consent to a very early start in the morning,
as, now that so much time had been lost in purposely
short marches, we would have to step out to cover
the distance in seven days. We agreed, and ever
afterwards they behaved like lambs, and turned into
a hard-working team, cheerful and willing.

It was a wretched little place to sleep in, where we
stopped on the day of the squabble. There was just

ZOOLOGICAL SPA 213

enough room if we did not put up the tents, and so,
with dreary memories of the first night after Theron-
liang, we lay in the open, and (by the mercy of
Heaven!) it remained dry. At least, it did not
rain; but a very heavy dew made us fairly damp,
nevertheless. In the morning we buckled to and
were away bright and early, making a long march
to a delightful camp close by some hot springs.

People do not as a rule associate Tibet with volcanic
activity ; but actually there are many such springs
dotted about all over the country, even as high as
thirteen thousand feet. They are nearly all medi-
cinal, and are greatly valued as cures for almost any-
thing. Those in the Di Chu Valley are not more
than eleven thousand feet high, and are quite small
and uninteresting, though the water is very hot. It
was about a hundred and twenty degrees Fahrenheit
when we were there, or as hot as a very hot bath.
It was pathetic to see the corpse of an unhappy frog
floating about in the spring. The feeble-minded
creature must have been feeling a bit warm and dry,
and have plunged in for a cooling swim, only to meet
with a horrible death instead.

Close to the Hot Springs the valley was much
broader than it had been lower down — about a quarter
of a mile wide — and covered with pines, making a
most comfortable place to halt. There were three
hunters there, who had come from a village near
Tinai, all quite small, but full of importance. They
were out after takin, which, they said, came down in
hundreds for two months of the year, specially to
drink the waters of the spring, and fighting and
struggling to get at it. We had always looked upon

TIBETAN TREK

214

takin as being a very rare animal, and to hear of
hundreds at a time sounded rather a tall story; but
there was no doubt about it, it was so. The ground
was smothered with tracks and churned into mud all
round the springs, and both in the early morning
and just before dusk we saw large herds of the animals
less than a quarter of a mile away on the other side
of the river. That night the coolies sent a spokes-
man to ask very humbly if we would consent to
stopping there for a day so as to allow our three
gunmen to shoot some fresh meat. We felt we could
do with a good haunch of takin ourselves, and,
besides that, B. C. wanted time to make some repairs
to his camera tripod, which had not been improved
by the care-free way in which one of the coolies
had dropped it on the rocks every time he sat
down for a rest. Everything seemed to fit in together,
so we graciously gave them leave to stop for twenty-
four hours. What was more to the point was that it
gave me an opportunity of going out with one of the
professional hunters in order to see how things were
managed. I enjoyed myself on that shoot.

The hunter opened the ball in the late afternoon by
setting a vast number of rope snares of every descrip-
tion all round the springs and in the ta ki n runs
through the bushes. By the time he had finished,
the whole place was thick with them. The most
ingenious kind was a spring noose designed to catch
the leg of whatever stepped into it. The spring part
was made of a pine sapling bent down and held by a
cord which was fixed to a trigger in the middle of
the path. The noose was fastened to the end of the
pine, and was delicately arranged round the trigger,

ZOOLOGICAL SPA 215

and camouflaged with grass. The theory was that
as soon as anything trod in the loop, the tree would
jerk straight, tightening the rope round the victim’s
leg and throwing it on its back, where it would be
held until required. The only thing I ever saw
caught in one of these was the hunter’s dog. The
luckless beast came trotting along the path without
looking where it was going, and stepped right on the
trigger. There came a fiendish howl, and, hey presto !
the dog was dangling by one leg ten feet in the air,
tc making great sorrow.” When released, it was
quite unhurt; but its nerves were shattered, and it
stuck to its master’s heels like glue for the rest of the
day. Having missed the same fate myself by a bare
half-inch, I could feel for the poor hound, and com-
miserated with it in spirit. I would have done so
in the flesh; but if ever anyone went near it but the
hunter, the visitor met with such a display of crusty
inhospitality, that sympathy immediately vanished,
giving place to craven fear. The setting of the traps
concluded the first day’s work, and we returned to
camp.

We were up before dawn and away on the hunt
proper, the Tibetan filled with grim determination,
and I wondering what his gun was for. In a stealthy
silence we crept along to the springs and took up our
position under a convenient bush. Motionless, we
waited there for something to happen. Shortly
before the sun rose there was a great crashing among
the rhododendrons, twenty or thirty yards away, as a
takin blundered into one of the snares. Instantly all
was quivering excitement! Hurriedly the hunter
loaded his dreadful old cannon, and motioned for

216 TIBETAN TREK

me to be silent, although I had been as the grave
since the beginning of the campaign. Still the
struggles went on in the bushes; but the time was
not yet ripe, and we remained in our shelter, praying
for the day. At last it became light enough to see
what we were doing. The Tibetan crawled from
cover, and cautiously approached to within five
yards of the animal, which by now was thoroughly
roped up. With the gun resting on its prongs, he
lit the slow match and took careful aim. There was
a terrific bang, and the amazing weapon leaped into
the air, the bullet landing in the wretched takin’s
rump. With a gasp of satisfaction, and a glorious
feeling that he had done all that honour demanded,
the hunter snatched the long knife from his belt
and ran forward to finish matters off. With its short
powerful horns and shaggy hair his prize looked a
sturdy beast, and was six feet six from nose to tail. We
left the body, and walked back to camp for breakfast.

Later in the morning we went back, the hunter
and I, taking half a dozen of the coolies with us to
help with the skinning. They were very good at it,
and had the whole operation finished within a
quarter of an hour. They had one weird and singu-
larly disgusting idea, however. Having started things
off by turning the creature over on its back and
cutting down the belly, they then removed the
stomach and entrails. When the cavity was about a
third full of blood, they grabbed their dogs and flung
them in headlong, rolling them in the gore and
pushing their noses under. They said it made them
better hunting-dogs. I bought the haunch we had
been hankering after, and also the kidneys. The

ZOOLOGICAL SPA 217

coolies cut out the heart and the liver, and ate them
raw, then and there, with smacking lips and their
faces a slobbery red. The carcass was then quartered
and carried back.

The three armed coolies who had come along with
us had each been successful in the hunt, and all the
natives began to gorge in a fashion that was fearful
and wonderful to see. They might have been
starved for years by the way they tucked into that
meat. The woods were soon full of little groups of
men seated three or four at a time, round fires, each
man with a long piece of bamboo in his hands, on
which he was grilling chunks of flesh. When even
their gigantic appetites had been sated, they built
tripods over the fires and smoked all the rest of the
meat, throwing the bones to the dogs, which were
soon so full that they could do nothing but lie pant-
ing, with distended bodies, and tongues lolling out
of their mouths. The hunters said that they spent
the whole two months, when the takin were taking
the cure, in trapping and shooting. The wonder is
that, in the face of it all, animals still continue to
come to the springs. Those waters must be a real
necessity to them * for the smallest hunter of the lot
told me that the year before he had killed forty-seven
himself, and had made a lot of money by selling
the dried meat to the people in the Rima district.

When we got back after the skinning, B. G. was in
dire straits. The day was hot and sunny, and the
poor old fellow had been hailed as a friend by a large
number of bees, which persisted in wandering up his
shorts and down his shirt. Courageous as ever, and
saying that, bees or no bees, that tripod had to be

TIBETAN TREK

2l8

mended, he worked away in a furious temper, being
painfully stung every minute or two, and keeping
up a running commentary on the scandalous indelicacy
of some of God’s creatures. I, having two empty
hands to protect myself with, could sit back at my
ease and admire his tenacious spirit. I tried to
cheer him by saying that I had read somewhere
about bee-stings being good for rheumatism and
kindred complaints ; but his reply was unsympathetic
and even offensive. I realised magnanimously that
it had probably been an ill-timed moment to impart
such an item of news, and that bees were anyway
quite enough to sour a man’s outlook on life, so I
returned good for evil by pulling out a few stings for
him. His sufferings were over before evening, and
by the time he had put away a juicy takin steak, all
rancour had left him, and he was once more his
usual sunny self, even bursting into song (my favourite
melody) later on.

We made a very long march of ten hours from the
Hot Springs, camping at the edge of the forest at
twelve thousand five hundred feet. For most of the
way we had passed through acres of thick dwarf rhodo-
dendron scrub growing about two feet high, which had
still a few pink and purple flowers left on it. When it
was all in bloom it must have been a breath-taking
sight. There had been an almost unlimited number
of streams to wade through as we had come up, and
when we halted for the night we had to turn our
minds seriously to the question of shoes. B. G. was
in a better position than I, as a matter of fact. He had
one excellent pair of walking-shoes, which he had
only been wearing for three weeks or so, and which

ZOOLOGICAL SPA 2ig

were still in very good shape, though continual soak-
ings had not done them much good. My own foot-
wear was in a parlous condition. I have mentioned
before that my boots had come to grief on the way
back from Lepa. A self-styled shoemaker in Rima
had said he could sew on the soles again, but had done
so with frayed pieces of string, and it was obvious that
his handiwork could not last for more than three or
four days at the outside. They had to be reserved
for the leech country beyond the pass. Apart from
them I had one moth-eaten pair of canvas boots which
had been originally bought to use when just knocking
around. Those old heroes had served me well on and
off for months, and continuously ever since Toyul.
They were now in the last stages of senile decay, with
little of the canvas left, and that so rotten from over-
much paddling, that it was difficult to keep them on.
I remembered that Kingdon Ward had been in a
similar position on his expedition with Lord Gran-
brook up the Adung Valley, and that there he had
been able to buy a number of pairs of grass sandals
from a travelling Chinese trader, which had been
better than nothing. B. C. and I came to the con-
clusion that if we also did not quickly meet with a
like stroke of luck, I should finish up barefoot. In the
meantime there was nothing for it but to fix on the
canvas boots with lengths of sticking-plaster (of which
B. C. had a huge supply for sealing his film cans), and
to hope for the best. My little toes had a trying habit
of popping out through the gaps in the sides and
catching, most painfully, on the twigs and stumps,
but at least the rubber soles were good. Nothing
made any impression on them.

220

TIBETAN TREK

B. G. had spotted some shots he wanted to take a
mile, or a mile and a half, below the camp, and so
we decided to stop there for a day to give him a chance
of getting them. It seemed only fair to pay the
coolies for the waste of time (wasted from their point
of view), but they appeared surprised when we said we
would. That evening the wind was blowing from the
north-east — a dry quarter — so I slept outside, as star-
gazing has always been rather a weakness of mine.
B. C., very wisely, was not risking anything, so he
borrowed my tent, it being both easier to put up than
his own and more roomy. All was well, though, and
we had a gloriously fine night — a bit cold, but other-
wise perfect. I woke at five to see a cloudless sky
packed with stars, which were already beginning to
fade, one by one. By half-past seven it was a magnifi-
cent and uniform blue, and we thought we might be
able to take the pictures and get away the same day,
after all ; but before breakfast was over, a thick and
joyless layer of clouds had come rolling up from the
south-west, and our hopes were dashed to the ground. •
Things might have been worse, however; for during
the day there were one or two short bursts of sunshine,
of which B. C. took full advantage, managing to get
a few of the shots he wanted. We could not wait
there for more than that one day because the coolies
were running short of food, and by then had barely
enough to take them home again.

A couple of miles from where we had stopped, the
valley turned to the south-east, which meant that we
were out of sight of the pass and had no idea how far
off it was. The coolies all swore that it was a long
march to reach it and get down to the cattle camp on

the other side, and that we would have to make a
very early start in the morning. We suspected that
they were lying, and that they wanted to get there
early simply in order to have most of the day left for
the return journey. We told them what we thought,
at which they protested with looks of sorrowful
indignation. In any case, it did not matter to us
whether we started early or late, so we agreed to
leave at six-thirty in the morning. At the last
minute B. G. decided to stop behind with his
camera-boys in hopes of being able to take the other
pictures later in the day, so I left him fondling his
cameras, and went on with the remainder of the
party.

It did not look as if he were going to have much
luck with the weather, for there were heavy clouds
everywhere, and, as a matter of fact, a very severe
rain-storm broke about an hour after we moved off.
On the whole, the path was quite good, although
there were numerous bogs and streams to struggle
through, and, as we had thought, it was, after all,
only a short distance to the Diphuk La. The track
grew steeper and steeper, and we had to make many
halts. About a thousand feet from the top we came
upon two small lakes, each about half a mile long and
three hundred yards wide, of the most beautiful
sapphire blue. One was slightly higher up than the
other, and from the far end of it we had a very stiff
climb indeed to the saddle of the pass, which was
dotted all over with blue poppies and primulas. We
reached it at ten o’clock. The day had improved
quite a lot, and, looking back, I had the most superb
farewell view into Tibet; rugged snow-covered

TIBETAN TREK

222

mountains stretching away into the distance ; blue
sky and clouds; trees, scrub, and bare grey rock;
and, at my feet, the blue lake, with a small island in
the middle, and the narrow Di Chu Valley winding
steeply down to the north.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
RENEGADE VEGETARIANS

“ ‘ Arcades ambo id est — blackguards both.”

Byron, Don Juan, Canto iv. Stanza 93.

Conversely, our first glimpse of Burma was dis-
appointing. To tell the truth, we saw nothing at
all except about a mile of the Seinghku Valley.
Everything else was shrouded in a white blanket of
mist. It was interesting to see that the sources of the
Di Chu to the north and the Seinghku to the south
were only about a quarter of a mile from each other,
one on each side of the pass, which is fourteen thousand
two hundred and eighty feet high. Right on the top
we saw a pair of stoats of a sandy-red colour, with
bodies about a foot long and black-tipped tails of the
same length. I offered the staggering reward of
five rupees to anybody who could catch one for me ;
but nothing came of it, although two of the men were
able to creep up to within three or four feet of them,
by taking advantage of the animals’ passion for
novelties. They moved forward very slowly, with a
stick in one hand and in the other the small bag which
held their flints and steel and which chinked merrily
as they jerked it up and down. The stoats seemed to
be fascinated by the sound, sitting up on their hind
legs and listening intently ; but they were too wary to

let the men come within striking distance, and always

223

TIBETAN TREK

224

darted under the rocks when they came too close, to
reappear a few seconds later in another place and
repeat the whole performance. After a bit the coolies
gave it up as a bad job, and we watched our quarry
frollicking away along the ridge, now and then
stopping to have a mock battle, and altogether feeling
very pleased with themselves. The only other signs
of life we saw up there, excluding a few wagtails by
the lakes, were hundreds of vole- and mouse-holes.

From the pass it was an easy march of an hour and
a half to the cattle camp, consisting of three hovels,
with a population of three men, two old crones, a
woman not so aged but none the less hideous, and two
small girls. There were some fifty beeves feeding up
on the hillside, as well as a dozen goats, all of which
had been brought up from lower down in the valley
for the grazing, and to get them away from the flies.
The settlement was so unbelievably filthy and squalid
that we pushed on and pitched our tents two hundred
yards further down on the bank of the river, which
was not more than fifteen feet wide at that point, and
very shallow. .

The Headman of the cattle camp came along soon
after we arrived, resplendent in an astonishing conical
hat of lurid pink felt, bringing a gift of “ butter on a
lordly dish,” and milk in a bamboo. Like all the
people in the Seinghku Valley (and there are not many)
as far down as, and including Haita, he was of Tibetan
origin, and dressed like a Tibetan, though he paid a
yearly hut tax of a rupee to the Burmese Government,
and thus claimed to be a British subject. I packed
him off down to Haita to collect more transport, and
he left that evening, saying that he would be back

RENEGADE VEGETARIANS 225

in three days’ time. B. C. arrived, full of good cheer,
some hours after the main body, with the good news
that he had had enough sun to do what he wanted.
We paid off the coolies who had brought us along, and
they all started back straight away except for the two
from Shiuden Gomba, who came to us and said that
they very much wanted to see the world, and would
like to come along to Fort Hertz. Besides having
stood by us during the mutiny, they had been quite
the best coolies we had had, very hard working and
always full of laughter and jokes, and we were only
too pleased to sign them on. We thought they would
be useful in helping Pinzho, as well as good company
for him, and they certainly did noble work while we
were waiting for the new coolies, fetching water,
cutting wood, washing dishes, and generally laying
themselves out to be as helpful as possible.

The next day the clouds came rolling down on us,
with a fine penetrating drizzle, and everything was
rather cold and miserable. It was the only time we
saw Pinzho give way to sorrow. He came to us in the
middle of the day weeping most bitterly, with the news
that he had lost his precious wallet with all his testi-
monials from the people he had been employed by,
who included the leaders of an Everest Expedition,
and of the party which so recently had a shot at
climbing Kinchenjunga. He was in despair about it,
and was certain that it must have been stolen by one
of the coolies who had hurried back, as he said “ so
suspiciously,” the day before. It made no difference
when we pointed out that it was of no value to anyone
but him, and least of all to a half-baked coolie from
Zayul. He said that it was obvious from their looks that

226 T I B E T A N TREK

they were criminals, and that after the way they had
behaved in the Di Chu Valley, he would put nothing
beyond them, not even stealing a poor man’s employ-
ment cards. The last time he could remember seeing
the wallet was when we left the last camp before
crossing the Diphuk La. The only chance of recovery
seemed to lie in calling the local herdsmen and women
and promising them a reward if they found it. This
was done, whereupon they decided that a treasure
hunt was a more profitable undertaking than looking
after a collection of unintelligent cattle, and they
deserted the hills as one man. In the evening one
of them came in, followed by his envious friends, with
the priceless package firmly clutched in a grimy paw.
Pinzho’s face looked like sunshine after heavy rain.
I doubt if he had ever been so relieved in his life, but
he doggedly maintained that those coolies would
certainly have pinched it if they had only had the
opportunity. He no longer trusted himself to look
after it, but gave it to me to put in my box for safe
keeping.

A stray fellow from Haita turned up in the after-
noon, full of the news that there was a white man on
his way from Fort Hertz, and that shelters were being
built for him all the way along the route. We could
only imagine that it was' the Assistant Superintendent
on a tour of inspection; but it stumped us to think
why on earth he should choose the middle of the rainy
season for his trip. Another man arrived the follow-
ing day with a far more detailed account. According
to him, there were two sahibs accompanied by thirty
soldiers, and they had already reached Hpalalangdam,
six marches from the cattle camp. The story seemed

RENEGADE VEGETARIANS 227

more and more amazing. B. C. was convinced that
word of our coming had spread to the outposts, and
that a detachment had been hurried off in case we
were the Russians ! In the end it turned out that
there was no other white man in the district but
ourselves. When we eventually reached Fort Hertz
we were told that no one had so much as thought of
trekking up to the Seinghku Valley, still less with
thirty soldiers. The most probable origin of the story
was that news of us had gone ahead — two white men
with twenty-nine coolies — and that it had seemed so
improbable to the natives lower down that any
European should be coming in from the north, that
they had made up their minds the party must be
moving up the other way. In that case, we were
being told about ourselves, backwards. The rumour
persisted, however, and all the way down the Nam
Tamai we were informed of these mysterious white
men at nearly every stopping place. It was rather a
disappointment never to find them, as it would have
been pleasant to have had a little dinner-party with
those other people and to have smoked a cigarette
with them. We had one Christmas pudding left in
our stores, and half a bottle of rum, both of which we
carefully put aside in order to be able to offer hospi-
tality to the wandering strangers when they showed
up. Oddly enough, our hopes did not vanish for
almost a month, and when they did, we still had the
pudding and the drink to cheer ourselves with.

We did not do very much at that cattle camp.
There was not much to do. The weather was steadily
foul, and very chilly, so we spent most of the time in
writing letters and vainly wishing the coolies would

228 TIBETAN TREK

hurry up. One day there were some fitful intervals
of sun, so I climbed to the top of the pass to see if I
could manage to get any snaps of the view into Tibet.
The north side of the range was just one great dismal
expanse of cloud, however, and that idea came to
nothing.

Sally was not doing any too well, either. She
found it rather too high for her, and became very
lifeless and torpid, turning up her nose at the good
milk we offered her, and only reviving when warmly
inside my shirt. She took a great fancy to my bed,
and especially to the pillow, under which she liked to
curl around my watch and go to sleep. That had to
be stopped very soon, though, because one day I sent
Pinzho in for that very watch, forgetting all about the
somnolent snake. He hove up the pillow and stood
for one moment, petrified with horror, as Sally started
to waggle her head at him. Then, with a choking
cry, he burst from the tent and fled. After that, I had
to keep her under stricter control, although she always
behaved herself like a perfect little lady on the rare
occasions when I let her stroll about in the sun to
absorb Ultra-violet Rays.

Late on the third day of our stay, two of the new
coolies arrived, with word that the others would be
with us in the early morning. These fellows were
Khanungs, and looked very much like Mishmis, but
nicer, franker, and cleaner. Later on they proved to
be excellent coolies in every way, and very easy to
deal with. Twenty more turned up as we were having
breakfast, and no sooner did they set eyes on our two
trusty servants from Shiuden Gomba than they
whipped out their knives and made a rush at them.

RENEGADE VEGETARIANS 229

The Tibetans darted into my tent for shelter, while I
let out a yell of mingled wrath and fear for my personal
belongings, which had the surprising effect of stopping
the battle. B. C,, a pillar of strength as ever, went on
placidly chewing a chapatti. When order was re-
stored, we asked what the show was all about. The
Khanung spokesman stepped forward and told us a
long story, of which, naturally, we did not understand
one word. A man who spoke Tibetan took up the
tale, and then, through Pinzho, we gathered that our
two men were well-known slavers, who had made a
raid into the valley only a couple of months before,
returning to their own country with half a dozen
children for sale. The culprits blandly admitted all
this with broad grins; but said that they were now
reformed characters, and that they really wanted no
more than to see the sights of Fort Hertz. They
added that they knew they would be quite safe with
us. It did not seem to be any of our affair what their
private business was; but, apart from that, it was
more than likely that if we toted them along as our
retainers, it would make difficulty for us with the
natives, so we asked them how they hoped to manage
on the return journey when they would have to go for
eighteen days unprotected by us, in a hostile country.
That wiped the smiles from their faces, and after a
moment’s hesitation they said that they could see our
point, and that under the circumstances they thought
they had better get out while the going was good.
They set to work packing up their few possessions, and
were out of sight and trekking back as hard as they
could go for the pass inside a quarter of an hour.
We were both sorry to see the last of them. Slavers or

TIBETAN TREK

230

not, they had been the life and soul of the party on a
good many occasions, and we were grateful to them for
the way in which they had backed us up earlier on,
when most people in their position would have
slavishly followed the majority.

Only twenty-two coolies had come up from Haita.
There was apparently some difficulty in collecting
more at such short notice as we had been able to give
them down there. It made us seven men short, so
we had to leave some of the loads behind (including
B. C.’s tent and my boxes) to be picked up later.
Everything went smoothly once the black sheep had
vanished from the scene, and before long we were on
our way again, making a short and easy march of four
hours. From my point of view, the only drawback
was that, as most of my clothes were in the boxes we
had had to desert, I had only one outfit of warmish
things with me, and those I wanted to keep dry for the
evening.

The day started well enough with bright sun ; but
a bitterly cold wind soon sprang up, bringing sheets
of driving rain. B. C. was comparatively thickly
dressed; but I was wearing only a cotton shirt and
shorts, and found things pretty chilly. A few hundred
yards below the cattle camp, we crossed the Seinghku
over a bridge of snow, made by a big avalanche coming
down and blocking the river. The water had worn
through the dam until there was nothing left but a
thin arch ; but, though there were many holes in it,
some of them more than six feet across, it was as hard
and solid as ice. We got over without any excite-
ment, except that Pinzho, who was strangely anxious
to look through one of the holes, went too near the

RENEGADE VEGETARIAN, S 231

edge. The snow suddenly gave way and he was only
saved by flinging himself on his back. As things
were, he would not have hurt himself even if he had
fallen through, for the bed of the river was not more
than five feet below him; but he would have been
soaked with icy water, and kept very clear of all holes
after that.

Half an hour before the end of the march we began
to find leeches, and by the time we made camp they
were getting very bad. Where we halted, at about
nine thousand feet, there was a small wooden hut
divided into two stalls for cattle. It was a filthy little
place, with the floors nearly two feet deep in dry
cowdung, and uninviting as a habitation, so we put
up the tent close beside it. After a brief inspection,
Pinzho took the byre for the kitchen. Our party
proved so great an attraction to the leeches that, rather
than sleep there, those coolies who could not fit into
the hut went back a mile or so up the path, until they
were high enough to be left in peace. We built a
roaring great fire of rhododendron wood in front of
the tent to guard us from invasion during the night,
and when we had changed into dry things, we were
very comfortable. Our takin meat had been finished
the previous day, so we went back to chicken for
dinner. We still had one fowl left from among those
we had collected on the way down the Rong To
Valley to Shigatang. It was a real old warrior.
Never had we dreamt that such a bird could exist !
It even defeated B. C.’s famous jaw, and was so
incredibly tough that we literally could not chew it
up. The only way to eat it at all was to saw it into
small pieces and swallow them whole, and that we

TIBETAN TREK

232

did, finding the meal as good exercise for our arms as
for our teeth.

We reckoned that the next march was going to be
unpleasant, and so, in the morning, we armoured
ourselves as completely as we could, with long trousers
tucked into one pair of cotton socks and two of wool.
From the waist up we had nothing better than shirts,
but we felt that it should be easy to keep leeches off
up there, and did not worry. I had my old boots, I
am glad to say, which gave me some protection round
the ankles, but B. C. had only his shoes. We had not
had a competition for some time, so we arranged to
keep a count of how many of the little devils we each
removed, and see who had the most. The prize was
to be half a pint of beer in Fort Hertz.

The next day we had a march of six hours along a
wretched path overgrown with long grass, and leading
steeply down through dripping jungle. From all
sides leeches came wriggling and looping towards us,
reaching out from every blade of grass, and dropping
from the leaves of the bushes. The coolies were
better off than we, for they went along almost naked,
and as soon as they were attacked they could scrape
themselves with their knives. It was not long, how-
ever, before the leeches had found ways through our
armour, and taken refuge where we could not get at
them without undressing. Soon we could see by the
slowly spreading patches of blood on our socks, and
feel by the squelching in our boots and shoes, that we
were sorely wounded. From the bushes, they found
it easy to get into our shirts, and for the first two hours
of the march we were kept more than busy pulling

RENEGADE VEGETARIANS 233

them off our chests, and getting the coolies to remove
them from our backs. As in honour bound, I kept a
tally, and by the end of that time I had dealt with a
hundred and eighty-six. B. C. was behind somewhere,
and I do not know how long he went on counting;
but after that I lost heart, and gave up the game.

The leeches grew steadily worse as the march went
on and we got lower down, and presently we dared
not even stop for two seconds to remove any ; for, if
we stood still, a dozen more seized on to us in an
instant, for every one we pulled off. Even the coolies
were dribbling with blood all over, and hurrying as
I had never seen coolies move before. As though to
make up for the evils of that jungle, from time to time
we had some very lovely glimpses down into the deep
valley, with the Seinghku swirling far below us ; but
after stopping to take one photo, and suffering for it,
I put my camera away, and did not pause again.

In the afternoon our trials included heavy rain,
which came down like water from a hose ; but at last,
rather low in our minds, though thankful to have
finished that march, we crossed the river and arrived
at Haita, near which two bamboo huts had been built
for us. Fires had already been lit, and tearing off
our clothes, we were de-leeched by armies of willing
helpers, who found intruders even in our hair. I
had come off fairly lightly on the whole ; but B. G.
was in a bad way. Wearing only shoes, his feet had
proved easy game for the leeches, which we found
swarming on them in great clotted masses when we
took off his socks. From there they had spread up
his legs inside the trousers, and he had lost so much

234 TIBETAN TREK

blood that he was very weak and depressed. There
were a hundred and six on his two feet alone, bloated
and hideous. The trouble was that, for hours, he
did not stop bleeding. The floor all round him
was thick with semi-congealed blood, and it was not
until long after dinner that his bites began to dry up.
Luckily, we had to stop in those huts for the next
three days, which gave him time to pick up strength
again, while seven unfortunate coolies went back to
the cattle camp to fetch the boxes we had left behind.
They earned their money. It would have taken more
than a shilling a day to have made me go through
another experience like that.

Our shelters were in the middle of a small meadow,
covered with long grass, and, not being built on piles,
they were no defence against the leeches which came
marching along the floor in droves. We had to be
on the watch all day long warding them off, and
flinging them into the fire. At night all was well;
for we put up the tent inside the building, and, by
shutting it up tightly, never found more than one or
two in it in the morning. As a matter of fact, that
tent was needed to keep us dry, and not only as a
protection against “ invasion of privacy.” The hut
roof was so feeble that it might just as well not have
been there at all. If no one else enjoyed the place,
Sally at least was full of life. We were not more than
six thousand feet high, which suited her down to the
ground, and she revived like a parched flower in the
rain. She still refused her milk, but drank a terrific
amount of water, and became very perky.

The Headman of Haita was a cheery old lad, with

RENEGADE VEGETARIANS 235

an enormous goitre, and an old and battered felt hat
with a broad brim, which in the days of its far-off
youth had once belonged, I should think, to some
soldier in the Burma Rifles. He came in every day
to pay us a visit, and was very good company.
He was awfully excited to hear that we had originally
been with Kingdon Ward, whom he remembered
from his expedition into the Adung Valley in 1930,
and who had made a great impression on him. He
asked tenderly after him, and was eager to know when
he was coming to Haita again. He was delighted to
hear that Lord Granbrook was married, and wished to
be remembered to him when we next saw him.
Incidentally, almost the first question the latter asked,
when I saw him in London, was how the old Head-
man was getting on, and whether his goitre was as
big as ever. We had hoped to have been able to buy
some rice in his village, as our supplies were running
very short ; but there was none to be had. However,
he provided us with eight eggs, a cock, and some very
fine peaches, so we did not do so badly, although we
had to start rationing ourselves pretty strictly.

If we ever bought anything from the natives in the
Seinghku and Nam Tamai Valleys, they always asked
if we would pay them in salt rather than in money.
Unfortunately, salt is none too plentiful in Zayul, and
in Shigatang we had not been able to get hold of
much more than enough to last us for our own cooking
on the way to Fort Hertz. It would have been a
satisfactory business for all concerned if we had only
had more, for two pounds of salt was worth about
four shillings and sixpence.

TIBETAN TREK

236

Our baggage arrived on the evening of the third
day. By skilful repacking we were able to cut down
the total number of loads from twenty-nine to twenty-
four, and then, with a new lot of coolies, we said good-
bye to the old Headman, and left Haita, crossing over
the river again to the left bank. There were half a
dozen women among our Khanungs, and after months
in which we had seen none but the damsels of Tibet,
it was most exhilarating to find that these were
definitely quite good looking, and with pleasant
figures. To his great embarrassment, three of them
adopted B. C. immediately, by making a dash for his
camera boxes and tripod. He became an imposing
sight on the march, and, as he strode proudly ahead of
his devoted retinue, with several day’s- growth of
beard, he looked not unlike a dissolute sultan, fallen
on evil days. I had no special boxes to keep close
to me, and so was left alone and in the lurch, like my
pet heroine.

It was a pouring wet day, and the leeches were all
out on the war-path ; but we checkmated them by
putting some of our valuable salt into little bags of
sacking, and swabbing our boots and trousers every
few minutes. That proved so successful that we came
through the day almost unbitten. The coolies also
had a remedy, which consisted in smearing themselves,
and especially their legs, with wood ash. It was not
so good as our salt, but a great help, nevertheless.
Where they suffered most was at the back of their
necks ; for leeches often got on to their loads and
crawled over the top, where they could not be seen by
the men behind. While on the subject of baggage,

RENEGADE VEGETARIANS 237

I may say that the Khanungs (as well as the Kachins
and Shans, with whom we had dealings later on)
carry bundles by means of a forehead strap, like the
people in the Lohit Valley and Tibet, but helped by a
wooden yoke across their shoulders, very like those
yokes which are still used in some parts of Europe for
carrying buckets.

In the middle of the day we halted on a patch of
sand beside the Seinghku, and were hailed by one of
the men who had brought us down from the cattle
camp. He had seen my interest in Sally, and, being
a man of initiative, had gone off to catch more snakes on
the off chance that I would buy them. He had caught
two fine black fellows (I think they were a species
of viper) with a forked stick, and brought them along
in a large bamboo. I was very pleased with them,
already seeing my name in letters of gold as a generous
benefactor of the Zoo, and took them from him straight
away, to his unbounded delight. Like my beloved
Sally, they behaved beautifully with me — so well, in
fact, that I never bothered to wear gloves when
handling them, although they both had good big fangs.
We named them Cuthbert and Cuthberta, and they
and Sally lived in the one basket. Though Cuthbert
was gay and vigorous from the start, it took his wife
more than a week to overcome her shyness. At first
she liked to creep into a dark corner and huddle up in
a bashful heap ; but when she did get used to me, she
made Cuthbert’s gambollings look very small and
half-hearted compared with her own. It was always
an exciting business opening the basket to give them
water or exercise. As soon as the top was lifted

238 TIBETAN TREK

(unless I was very careful), all of them would come
racing out, to wriggle away in different directions.
This discomfited B. C.

We camped that night in the grass close to the river,
and found, to our joy, that the place was almost free
of leeches. That was the last march on which they
were ever so numerous as to be a menace. After that
we had no more than about twenty a day, and our
spirits rose by leaps and bounds. When I woke c up
in the morning, I took a stroll through the mud down
to the water, and found a fine cane suspension bridge
leading over to a small village half a mile distant.
From then on all the bridges we crossed were of this
same type. They were slung either between two trees,
or between wooden scaffolds, and to use them we had
to climb up a short ladder, ten or twelve feet high, and
on to a platform. The footpath was generally two
bamboos wide, and, owing to it being in the middle of
the monsoon, rather slippery. The supports of the
bridges were seldom more than knee high in the middle,
and, as the whole structure bounced and wobbled
furiously, it gave us a feeling of miserable insecurity,
especially since we were wearing shoes and could get
no grip with our feet. The coolies used to trot over
just as if they were on solid land; but, except on the
very big ones, only one man was allowed to cross at a
time, the others queueing up on the bank till their
turns came along.

We moved on from that camp at the respectable
hour of ten o’clock, and trekked through the forest
to the Adung-Seinghku Confluence, below which the
combined river is called the Nam Tamai. The path

RENEGADE V E G E T A R I A N S 239

was lined with huge and powerful stinging-nettles,
which had big spade-shaped leaves (the playing-card
spade, not the agricultural implement), and deceitfully
managed to look quite peaceful until we grew a
little careless for a moment and brushed against one.
I was still wearing the old boots; but after an hour
or so I stubbed my toe, and, with a rip, the string gave
way and the sole of one of them started to flap again.
To be accurate, it was only the outer sole which came
adrift, because there were three of them. It was hard
on the temper; but all went well till we came to a
place where the path ended abruptly at the top of a
steep fifteen-foot slope of rock. There were one or
two holes and ledges in it, which made it perfectly
easy to negotiate ; but, when it came to my turn, that
bit of waggling leather tripped me up, and I went
straight down, head first, and with a horrible oath,
to land in two feet of soft mud below. After that I
cut off the sole and flung it away.

A couple of miles further, while the coolies were
taking a rest, I suddenly felt there was something
wrong with my left hand and had a look. To my
dismay, I saw that the ring which had been my
mascot for years had vanished. There was nothing
to do about it. It might have dropped anywhere,
and if the coolies, who were very honest, had not seen
it, there was no hope of my doing so. Twenty
minutes later, while I was still ruminating drearily
over the loss, Pinzho came along and fished it out of
his pocket. He was the last of the whole line, and,
when everyone else had already gone by, he had seen
it half-buried in the mud into which I had fallen.

240 TIBETAN TREK

Once my talisman was back again, nothing could go
wrong, and, crossing the Seinghku just above the
confluence, we stopped at an excellent hut, where I
sat drying myself in front of a fire and waiting for
B. G. to turn up.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DIVERS PAINS

“ In this province are found snakes and great serpents of such vast
size as to strike fear into those who see them, and so hideous that the very
account of them must excite the wonder of those to hear it. I will tell
you how long and big they are.”

Marco Polo.

B. C. was still weak as the result of the march down to
Haita. The poor old fellow tottered in almost two
hours behind the rest of us. Luckily he was not alone,
and he said that the three stalwart girls who were
carrying his camera equipment had given him a lot
of help in difficult parts of the track, pulling him up,
and steadying him down. He was so dead beat,
though, that it was out of the question to move on
again the next day as we had intended, so we waited
there for twenty-four hours while he recovered. We
had used tents for the last time, and now for all the
rest of the way there were bamboo huts at every
convenient camping-place. As Fitch said, when he
journeyed to Bassein in 1 586, “ The Houses are high
built, set upon great high Postes, and they go up to
them for fear of the Tygers.” They were good little
huts, for the most part, with thatched roofs which
kept out the rain fairly efficiently, and the walls and
floors were made of plaited cane. There was always a
clay fireplace in them, and altogether they were very
comfortable. They had been built for the Assistant

Superintendent at Fort Hertz, and were a boon not
Q. 241

242 TIB I T A N TREK

only to us, but also to all the natives who used that road,
though naturally none of the latter ever thought of
trying to share them with us. Each hut had a kitchen
close by, and was looked after by a Khanung, whose
job it was to keep it in good repair and as clean as
possible.

We never saw any of the tigers mentioned by Fitch,
although there are numbers of them all through the
jungles in that part of Burma, as it is far too inaccessible
to be popular among big-game hunters. Practically the
only wild animals we ever did see were monkeys of
different kinds ; but quite frequently we came across
the tracks of panther and deer. Our old friends the
sand-flies were with us once more, and, together with
mosquitoes, they would have given us a grim time at
night if we had not had our head nets. As it was, we
could afford to laugh them to scorn, especially B. C.,
who had made his blankets and valise into a wonder-
fully air-tight roll, without the smallest chink any-
where. He could hardly move when he was packed
into them ; but they served their purpose by warding
off attacks. As on the way to Lepa, the sand-flies
came beetling in through the foot end of my sleeping-
bag. Ultimately, I took to wearing two pairs of
thick socks at night, pulled over the ends of my
pyjama trousers, on the theory that it was better to be
infernally hot than infernally bitten.

Apart from the good it did B. C., we did not miss
much by staying on in the hut that day, as it poured
and poured the whole time without a break. New
coolies had been waiting for us when we arrived there,
and so we were able to get away quite early the
following morning. The Seinghku at its best had

DIVERS PAINS 243

never been more than a large and turbulent stream;
but the Nam Tamai was a real river, and coming
down like fury. It was a magnificent sight, and very
beautiful. We were on an absolute dream of a path,
too, three feet wide and with a good surface. It was
a mule-track, kept up by the Government, and our
marches became both quicker and longer in conse-
quence. After one hour, we crossed the river by the
most superb bridge we had seen — a lovely piece
of work. Intended for mules, it was entirely built
of cane, and some seventy-five yards long, with a
footpath two feet across, made of narrow slats of
bamboo. Exactly in the centre of the footpath was a
cane strip, running from end to end of the bridge.
The whole thing swayed tremendously (I should love
to have seen a mule crossing it!), and the idea of this
strip was to help coolies, who, by walking carefully
along it, to a very large extent avoided making the
bridge perform.

The path ran along through forest and large
clearings planted with maize, and past a fair number
of huts. I was a long way in front of the main body
of coolies, though three of them were with me, strain-
ing every nerve to keep up, and obviously saying to
themselves that they would jolly well show me that,
loads or no loads, they could travel in their own
country as fast as any white man. They drove me to
terrific efforts. I dashed along with heaving chest,
doing my utmost to shake them off, and always hearing
the patter of their feet five yards behind, never more
and never less. Half-way through, by mutual con-
sent, we called a halt, a few yards from a small settle-
ment. I was very glad of it. The maize was just

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244

ripening, and the women and children were hard at
work in the fields. My coolies were chuckling with
joy at having kept up with me, and talking nineteen
to the dozen. Presently one of them vanished inside
a hut, and came out again, a few moments later,
followed by an old woman with a bamboo filled with
a kind of beer, very like chang, which I received with
thanks. She saw me lighting up my pipe, and hurried
to bring along about three pounds of real tobacco
leaf, all of which I bought like a shot. After the
Tibetan muck we had been smoking, it was simply
heavenly.

From a scientific point of view that halt was most
important. While I was sitting on a log and finishing
off the beer, I was savaged by a bee on the thigh. I
had been brought up at school to regard as almost
divinely inspired the teachings of those naturalists
who held that a bee, if left to itself, would always
succeed in pulling out its sting. I willingly martyred
myself in order to prove this knotty point, while the
bee wandered round in a very small circle tethered by
its hinder parts. The idea of sitting quiet and suffer-
ing instead of swatting the brute is apparently simply
in order to save the small amount of trouble it would
take to pull the sting out oneself. For three minutes
I sat with set face, enduring all things, while the bee
gyrated. At the end of that time it lost its temper and
furiously tearing sting and poison sac from its body,
it flew off to die, leaving them still stuck firmly in
my leg. With the utmost trust I had followed the
book of words (or what I could remember of it) and
had been tormented ; but all to no avail. Since then

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245

I have lost faith in all the natural history I ever learnt,
I feel strongly that people should be warned in time
to give viciously minded insects no quarter.

After half an hour the race began again, and we
roared along to the next Traveller’s Hut near the
village of Gawai, which was scattered along the path
for a good half-mile, with never more than two huts
in one place.

Kingdon Ward had given us a list of the stopping-
places, with brief descriptions of the marches on all
this part of the journey, which he had written entirely
from memory. It was a wonderful achievement, and
very accurate. At the time, B. C. and I could not
believe that he had not had one of his old diaries with
him to write it from. It was not until we met him
again in England that we found out that he had just
sat down and gone over every march in his head. It
was a tremendous help having that list, as we had a
certain amount of difficulty over the language. We
had engaged a so-called interpreter from Haita, a
long, lean Tibetan, who spent the entire time com-
plaining how sick he felt. He did not seem to know
any of the dialects, and soon became no more than an
extra mouth to feed, so we sacked him and sent him
back; but by following our route-book things were
quite easy. We knew exactly where the next stop
was, how far away, and where we had to change
coolies. In fact, our only worry was food, or the
lack of it. Kingdon Ward was certainly right when
he said that supplies were hard to come by down the
Nam Tamai. We were able to buy practically
nothing except now and then some corn-cobs, and

246 TIBETAN TREK

quite often a kind of cucumber which grows up to
about a foot long, and five inches in diameter. On
one occasion after leaving Haita we were able to get
hold of a chicken, and twice of some rather stale fish ;
but that was all. The last of our flour and tsamba
was finished during dinner that night at Gawai.

Lack of flour was what hit us most, as it meant
that we could have no more of the chapatties which
had come to be our main stand-by. However, we
still had a little rice left, and plenty of tea, and with
the corn-cobs and cucumber we had some good little
meals. In the backs of our minds lurked the thought
that we were bound to meet those white men from
Fort Hertz before long, and then we would have a
marvellous dinner on their stores, eked out by our
Christmas pudding and rum. In the meantime,
though we had to pull in our belts a bit, we were
never in any actual discomfort, and the whole thing
added one more pleasure to life; for we were never
tired of discussing the food we were going to have
together as soon as we got back to civilisation, and of
planning enormous banquets. B. C. had perfectly
straightforward desires in the way of food, such as
steak and onions ; but, though I yearned for these
too, strangely enough the things I wanted most
were rich plum cake, Nestle’s milk on biscuits, caviar,
milk chocolate, oysters, and lobster — a mysterious
collection. . -Uh

B. C. came into Gawai at last, having been in the
wars once more. Two hornets had stung him at the
same moment and quite without provocation, one
on each calf. The hornets in Upper Burma are

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247

unattractive beasts. They look very like big wasps,
and build their nests in the trunks of trees. You
have only to pass by one of these trees to be attacked,
and their stings are bad enough to cripple you for
an hour or so afterwards. The poison is so powerful
that a circle of flesh, of about a quarter of an inch in
diameter, all round the puncture is entirely killed,
turns black, and eventually drops out, leaving a deep
scar. B. G. was limping very badly when he arrived,
and he said the next morning that his legs had been
hurting until past midnight, more than twelve hours
after he had been stung.

We stopped another day in Gawai — luckily it was a
sunny one— to take some more of the film, and then
made a longish march to Hpalalangdam. I was
growing very impatient to be at Fort Hertz. If we
had still been pushing north with Kingdon Ward it
would have been a different matter; but now that
we were on the return journey, I did not care how
quickly we finished it ; and this feeling of restlessness
made me hurry along each day so much that I always
had about two hours to wait in the next hut before
the coolies arrived with a dry change of clothes.
With a pipe and tobacco, however, those hours of
waiting were very pleasant, especially as the care-
takers of the huts always lit fires as soon as I came
in, which kept the chill off. The path was so good
that, if it had not been for the snakes, the marches
would have been rather boring. The jungles were
swarming with them, and I suppose at least one
crossed the road every half-mile. There were all
sizes, from little nine-inch fellows to big chaps of

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248

seven or eight feet. The latter looked like a kind of
grass-snake as a rule, and when that was so I would
make a mad rush at them, without ever being quick
enough to grab one. After I had made two such
shots at harmless snakes one day, I saw a six footer
ten yards ahead moving quite slowly. I was just on
the point of dashing at it, when an icy shiver ran
down my spine, and I recognised it as a hamadryad.
Terrified out of my life, I was rooted to the spot,
thanking all the Gods that hamadryads are short-
sighted snakes, as they are notoriously bad-tempered,
and attack anyone who goes near them. It continued
down the path for a few yards while I stared at it
with glassy eyes, before it vanished into the under-
growth at the sides.

On the way to Hpalalangdam, I met four Chinese
traders who were going up into the Adung Valley.
What few languages I knew something about, they
did not, so we had to recourse to signs. I pointed to
my boots and then at their bundles, and looked
inquiringly at them. They were most interested, and
all bent down to examine my feet, with polite exclama-
tions, as though they were dealing with someone
who had to be humoured. I twiddled bits of grass
in my fingers and meaningly tapped my soles, showing
their sorry state. They smiled and nodded. Becom-
ing desperate, I set to work and drew a sandal in my
note-book. Once more they beamed at me and
bowed, pointing to the river with large gestures, and
when I took another look at my sketch I was forced
to admit that it did certainly look more like a fish
than anything else. I could do no more, and resigned

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249

myself to a life without sandals, hoping that the old
boots would last longer than I expected. Every
intelligent effort to show them what I wanted had
simply strengthened their conviction that I was
mentally afflicted, and so I left them and went on
my way.

Hpalalangdam was every bit as scattered as Gawai,
and poverty-stricken into the bargain; but the hut
we were in was very high-class. It was even fitted
up with a bathroom, or rather a separate little place
in which we could wash and keep our basin. We
had been comfortable enough before; but the extra
room, if it did nothing else, gave us the impression
of supreme luxury. The menagerie was increased
at this place by a couple of legless lizards, like brilliantly
coloured slow-worms, brought in by a youth. Their
tails were the best part of them, and were a bright
sealing-wax red and very shiny. It took us a long
time to choose names for them, but in the end I
came to the conclusion that the least I could do for
B. C. was to make him honorary godfather to both,
and call them after him, Bertram and Robert. He
objected strongly at first, asking why I did not call
them by my own beastly names if I was so keen on
christening them ; but when Bertram suddenly took
a strong fancy to him and curled round his finger,
he changed his mind and agreed that it was fitting
for him to be their namesake. None of the reptiles
ever answered to their titles ; but it was useful to
be able to distinguish between them, all the same.
Even Pinzho soon knew what they were called, and,
on the few occasions when one of them got loose,

250 TIBETAN TREK

he was heard shouting the name of the offender from
afar off. It was sad that Robert was not with us for
long. He unwittingly committed suicide one night,
by trying to escape from the basket just as I was
putting them all to bed and shutting the lid. In the
morning we found him stiff and stark, with his head
squashed. It was our first death, and we were most
upset.

Hpalalangdam was one of the places where we
were able to buy fish. We bought it for dinner, and
by breakfast time it was so full-flavoured that B. C.,
who was still anything but fit, had to push his away in
disgust, and eat a cucumber instead. It was not
wasted, however, for I was feeling strong, and took
it from him gratefully, making a large meal for the
first time since our takin meat had given out at the
cattle camp below the Diphuk La.

The thing which flourished most in our party was
mildew. It grew luxuriantly on everything, even on
the last remnants of our rice ; but the only place on
which it really made itself a nuisance was in the
filters for B. C.’s camera. These were stuck together
with gelatine, which the mildew loved, and since it
was impossible to keep anything dry, he had an
awful job looking after them.

The march we made from that place was memor-
able as being the first we had had in Burma with-
out rain. There was no sun, but it was dry and
very warm. The further we went down the valley
the better the huts became. The last had boasted
a bathroom, and this mansion, besides that, had
bamboo doors which opened and shut. We were

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251

becoming pampered, and grew to expect, as our right,
some new marvel at the end of each day. At this
next hut we were met by a group of hopeful natives
with an astounding collection of goods for sale.
There were two slightly rotten squirrel skins, one
squirrel corpse (also going a bit), two live birds, the
smoked foetus of a wild pig, and a very young monkey.
The latter I was tempted to buy. It put its arms
round my neck and chattered softly to me, crying like
a child if anyone tried to take it away. It was Pinzho
who put me off it. He pointed out, with his usual
good sense, that we had nothing to feed it on, as it
was young enough to need milk and nothing else;
so, though it depressed me to give it up, I handed it
back to its captor. Robert’s demise had been sad
enough, but to have had that little monkey dying
on my hands would have been much worse. It
was far too human.

The day after that was bright enough to delight
B. C.’s heart, which had begun to sink as time went
on with nothing but clouds and rain. It was glori-
ously sunny, and very hot, so that he was able to do
a lot of work with his camera. We strolled along
together for a change, stopping here and there to
take photos, and not hurrying in the least. Some
time in the early afternoon we crossed a side-stream
by a suspension bridge, and he saw a spot in the
river-bed a few yards away from which he could
film it. We struggled down over the boulders, and
he started to fix up the tripod and things. All of a
sudden, we were assailed by a host of dwarf bees, no
larger than small house-flies. Their stings were not

252 TIBETAN TREK

particularly painful, actually very little worse than
severe pricks, but they were bad for our morale. It
began to get on our nerves to know that, every time
we moved, some part of our clothes would press on
half a dozen of the insects at once, who would promptly
retaliate as best they could. We became ridiculously
jumpy and very cross, flinching and cursing whenever
we were pricked, not because we were hurt, but
simply because we were so keyed up that we could
not help it. I felt restless again when we had finished
at that bridge, and went on ahead.

A few miles beyond that, a little ten-inch Russell’s
Viper wriggled over the path. I could not remember
having seen one at the Zoo, so I pinned it down
with a stick, and very cautiously picked it up. I
had nowhere to put it but in my handkerchief, so I
wrapped it in that and gingerly carried it along,
suffering torments from the sweat which kept running
into my eyes off my forehead, now that I had nothing
with which to mop it up. Pinzho and a couple of
the coolies were already at the hut when I arrived,
so I told one of them to cut me a bamboo in which
to put the snake, whose name was Ghristabel. When
her new home was ready I carefully undid the hand-
kerchief, and left a small hole for her to come out of.
Pinzho was very frightened, and so was I. As soon
as her head appeared, I grabbed her by the neck and
breathed a heartfelt sigh of relief at having got her so
that she could not bite. Then came the job of putting
her into the bamboo. Try as I might, I could not
manage to get her tail in, she wriggled too much.
My gloves were miles behind in one of the boxes;

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253

but if I had had any sense I would have waited until
they came. Instead of that, I tried to push her in
head first, arguing that as the bamboo was not more
than an inch and a half in diameter, she would not
be able to curl back on herself and make trouble.
But Christabel was more of a contortionist than she
looked, and, just as all seemed well, her head popped
out, and she struck me on the finger, most viciously.
I jammed her safely inside, whipped out a knife, and
told Pinzho to cut the place quickly; but for the
first and only time on the journey he was a broken
reed. He turned a sort of dirty white, and fell down
in the corner moaning, so I had to do it myself, four
deep gashes isolating the bite. Pinzho had recovered
to some degree by then, though he was still sobbing.
I gave him two pieces of cord, which he tied as tightly
as he could round the base of the finger and the wrist.
We had worked pretty fast ; but even so a little of the
poison had spread into my system, and in three or
four minutes I was feeling perfectly ghastly, and
trying hard to be sick. After half an hour I loosened
the two ligatures alternately for a few seconds every
ten minutes, and kept that up for a long time. When
B. C. arrived, I was feeling better, though still none
too good, and he earned my undying gratitude by not
saying “ I told you so ! ”

As soon as my box was brought in, Pinzho made a
dive for his musk, which he insisted on rubbing into
the cut, and though, if I had been going to peg out
at all, I should have done so long before, he was
quite certain that my recovery was entirely due to
his efforts, and not to my own. That episode gave

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254

the coolies the thrill of their lives. They came flock-
ing round, time and time again, until late that night,
to see if I were dying and to exclaim at my arm,
which was swollen up like a huge sausage as far as
the elbow, and very painful. It was good to know
that somebody was getting some amusement out of
it, because I certainly was not. That hand of mine
was a bit of a bother for the next ten days, especially
on the march, because if I swung it or even let it
hang down below my waist, it throbbed painfully,
and swelled up till it felt as though it would burst.

Our next halt was at the village of Pangnamdim —
at least it was supposed to be at that village; but,
though the Rest House was there all right, Pang-
namdim itself had migrated to a place about half a
mile up the side of the valley. It must be a great
comfort to live in houses which take only about a
day to put up. As soon as you get tired of one
site you just move the whole town, lock, stock, and
barrel. The hut had once been a good one ; but the
caretaker was away somewhere, and had left, as a
substitute, a small boy of nine or ten, who was not
up to the work of repairing it, so there were holes
in the floors and walls, and patches of the roof were
missing. The little lad was conscious of the short-
comings of the house, and earnestly tried to atone for
them by appointing himself my body-servant while I
was waiting for the others to arrive. He sat humbly
at my feet, armed with a huge whisk of grass, and
beat off blister-flies and bees with great success. As
a rule, B. C. and I were not much worried by insects
in those huts, because, as soon as the coolies turned

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up, we put on pyjama trousers, rolled down our
shirt sleeves, and anointed our hands and faces
liberally with oil of Deodar, a thick, dark-brown
substance with a powerful smell, which was ideal for
keeping off almost anything that flew. It was no
good for use in bed, however, as the effect wore off
after about an hour. Otherwise we should have
been in clover.

Pangnamdim was our last port of call on the Nam
Tamai. Just below was a big mule suspension bridge
over the river, bigger than the first we had crossed
on our way to Gawai, but not so interesting, as it
was supported by two steel cables instead of being
all in cane. Our road now lay across that and out
of the Tamai Valley to Nogmung, a large Shan
village on the banks of the Tisang River. Nogmung
was four marches away, and Fort Hertz four beyond
that, so, while ruefully considering the ration ques-
tion, which was becoming more and more serious,
our thoughts automatically turned to boots and
stockings, to see how they were going to last. We
came to the conclusion that foot discomforts were
more or less evenly divided between the two of us.
B. C. had no feet left in any of his socks — or, anyway,
not more than a shred here or there — but his shoes were
still doing well. I, on the other hand, had got one
perfectly good pair of stockings which had hardly
been worn; but I had been obliged to cut two soles
off each of my boots, and was now walking along
on a layer of leather hardly thicker than a glove,
through which I could feel every stone on the path.
We were both due for sore feet; but in any case we

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256

felt very lucky to have such a comparatively short
distance to cover before we could refit ourselves once
more. We rejoiced accordingly, broaching some of
our rum reserve for dinner, though we still hung on
to the Christmas pudding, and the hopes of company
it inspired.

I am afraid this is rather a snakey chapter. Still
another addition was made to the family when
Reginald was brought in by a coolie, who claimed,
and received, a rupee for the capture. Reginald
was never a friend of mine, any more than was
Christabel. He was five feet long, coloured a dark
and metallic blue with irregular crimson markings,
and seemed to be a kind of cobra. He was beautiful,
but bad-tempered. His eyes had round pupils, and
he spread a hood when angry, striking at me every
time I gave him water or food. I took no chances
with either him or Christabel, but always wore thick
gloves when handling them. We stopped a whole
day in Pangnamdim, as B. C.’s camera had got
thoroughly damp and needed drying. He spread
the parts on a blanket in the sun, and before long
they were so hot that we could not pick them up
with our bare hands, but had to use towels and
handkerchiefs. The odd thing was that the day did
not seem to be any warmer than usual to me; but
then, as I was sitting comfortably in the shade of a
small veranda, and nibbling a cucumber, perhaps
that is not to be wondered at. B. C., who was hard
at work on his tripod, had to stand outside, as the
floor of the hut was not steady enough. He com-
plained bitterly that he was being grilled alive. The

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live-stock, too, were a trifle below par. Except for the
malcontents, who seemed to like the warmth, they
wilted visibly, and when I took them out of their
basket to give them more air, they had hardly enough
energy to try to escape.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
NOT LOST

<c The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away.”

Job i. 21.

From Pangnamdim to Nogmung the path crosses
three small ridges and a couple of rivers. Funda-
mentally, it was a very good track; but during the
rains the grass had got rather out of hand, and was
now waist high over nearly all of it, except where it
ran through dark forest. There it was more or less
dear. The first day we crossed the bridge and had
a steep climb of three thousand feet, followed by a
long downhill stretch to a battered old hut standing
alone in the jungle, with no one to look after it. We
had taken on a new batch of coolies, nearly half
of whom were women. They chewed betel nut
from morning till night, spitting lustily all round
them. So long as the girls did not open their mouths,
this habit definitely improved their looks, as it gave
them the most brilliant red lips, far better than any
lip-stick would have done. In fact, they looked very
attractive, so that we had all the more of a shock
when they suddenly smiled, and showed us two rows
of even but hideously stained teeth. The coolies spent
half their time giggling. Even when fully loaded on
the march, and climbing a hill, they had breath

258

NOT LOST 259

enough left to make funny jokes, which kept all their
friends in fits of laughter.

One or two of the men had cross-bows with which
they were first-rate shots. The arrows were only nine
inches long, just sharp splinters of wood without any
feathers; but in spite of that they flew like lightning.
Half-way through the day, while the coolies were
resting, I picked up one of the bows and examined
it with interest. The owner became filled with a
desire to show his skill, and when a large vulture
flapped out of a tree some fifteen or twenty yards
away, he snatched the weapon from me, loaded it in
a flash, and brought down the bird in one beautiful
shot. We never found the corpse, which fell far
down the hillside; but we were not greatly dis-
appointed, as it would have been no use to us for
eating or anything else.

There was a loathsome spider in that hut. B. C.
was much braver than I in most things, and especially
where spiders were concerned ; but even he was some-
what dismayed by that horrible brute. It was a good
four and a half inches across, and sat a little way up
in the thatch, leering at us like the incarnation of all
evil. To reach him with one of our sticks we should
have had to stand immediately underneath him,
which was more than either of us had the courage to
do, as he might have fallen on top of us when we
prodded him. Accordingly we devised the ingenious
scheme of “ The Removal by Water and the Rod.”
The essence of this plan was that I should fling a
mugful of water at the enemy, which would prob-
ably knock him from his perch on to the floor. B. C.

260 TIBETAN TREK

was then to land him a crack with a club before he
had recovered from the shock of his fall. We worked
everything out scientifically, took up our stations, and
I heaved the water over him. Then came our first
miscalculation. The wily beast made what seemed
to be a vicious spring in our direction, and landed
several feet away from the place we had chosen for
the slaughter. B. C. recovered himself magnificently,
and aimed a blow at the spider which would have
killed an ox; but he was out of position, and the
light was poor. There was I, unarmed except for
the empty mug, and when the creature, now thor-
oughly roused, came galloping swiftly towards me, I
am not ashamed to say that I hurled the pot at it,
missed, and fled for my life, or rather for a weapon.
The sound of another heavy blow followed me out,
as B. C. valiantly kept up the fight; but when I came
back again, grasping a hefty stick, I found him far
from triumphant. He was standing in an attitude
of defence, despairingly looking up at the spider,
which had taken refuge as high as it could go, and
was now prowling around in the roof, and affixing us
with a malignant glare from all its eight eyes. It
spoilt the whole evening for us. We felt that at any
moment vengeance might drop from the skies, and
spent the time in looking fearfully up to see where
the brute had got to. We went to bed with a grim
feeling that we might easily find it sitting on one or
other of us in the morning. However, it had learnt
to respect us, and kept its distance.

We left that place without any regrets, crossed over
another ridge, and went down into a fairly broad

NOT LOST

261

valley beyond. There we forded one river, and
scrambled over another by a rickety bridge, which
was so antique that, rather than use it, the coolies
preferred to wade nearly up to their arm-pits in the
water. The Rest House was only a few yards beyond,
in a lovely position at the junction of those two rivers
and a stream. There was a village somewhere close
at hand, and quite a number of people came along
to pay us a visit, including the Headman, who
brought us a present of corn-cobs and a large and
very welcome red-fish. Our next thrill was at tea-
time, when a runner from Fort Hertz was announced.
He brought a letter from Leedham, the Assistant
Superintendent, who had been told that two Euro-
peans had crossed over the Diphuk La, but did not
know who we were or where we were going. He
asked us to inform him on these points, and, if we
were on our way to Fort Hertz, to let him know the
probable date of our arrival, so that he could make
arrangements to receive us fittingly. The letter had
been written eight days before, and as we were only
six marches away from where it had been started
(supposed to be four by runner), we felt that the man
had taken things pretty easily. In fact, if we had
been going straight down the Nam Tamai instead of
turning off from Pangnamdim, he would never have
caught us up at all; but it was no good berating
him, as he did not understand one word we said.
That was on September the 17th; so in our reply we
said we hoped to see him on the 24th, and sent him
best wishes from Kingdon Ward, who had met him
on his way to the Adung Valley. Kingdon Ward

262 TIBETAN TREK

had given us the message just before he had left
Glacier Camp for Shiuden Gomba. We also begged
Leedham to send us some bread, butter, bully-beef,
and beer, so that we could get them at Nogmung.
The man started back early next morning.

The afternoon had been cloudy, and as B. C. badly
wanted to take some pictures there, we decided to
stop for a day; but the Headman came round to tell
us that his village could not provide food for all our
coolies, who had only brought four days’ rations with
them. The only thing to do was to leave B. C. with
a minimum of men, and push on to Nogmung to
wait for him. Accordingly, after breakfast we parted
company for a while. He kept six of the coolies with
him, and the rest of us plodded along through forest,
over the last ridge, and a short distance down the
other side to a very good hut in a clearing. A troop
of gibbons kept pace with us almost the whole way,
never appearing even for an instant ; but announcing
their presence by high-pitched yells and crashing in
the branches at the side of the path. Near the top
of the ridge we must have disturbed a panther; for
there were very fresh tracks all round, and a heavy
smell of cat filled the air, like that in the Lion
House at the Zoo. Pig had been rooting about also,
and it was probably they whom the panther was
hunting.

There was a marvellous view from that place. You
looked down on to the broad Tisang Valley, and away
over several ridges beyond it in the direction of Fort
Hertz, all covered with a smoky blue haze, which
gave the impression of enormous distance. The

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263

coolies were in high spirits. There was a long hut
for them to use, and after dark, when they had eaten,
they sat round their fires laughing and chattering,
and occasionally singing in very nasal voices. I sadly
needed something to cheer me up; for Sally was in a
bad way, and had hardly strength enough left to
drink. She had a few fitful spurts of energy, which
lasted for half a minute at a time; but apart from
them she lay in what was almost a coma, slowly
opening her mouth in enormous yawns, and stretch-
ing her fangs. An egg beaten up and poured down
her throat would have been the only food she could
have taken; but we had no eggs, and she would
touch nothing else. I told Pinzho to buy one as soon
as we came to Nogmung, and in the meantime there
was nothing to do but to make her as comfortable as
possible, and hope for the best. She was very near
death, and on her account we started at seven o’clock
the next morning, and hurried along for all we were
worth. The going was very easy, down into the
valley and then along the level for about three and a
half miles, right up to Nogmung. The coolies were
a long way back when we arrived; but Pinzho was
with me, and he procured an egg in the most miracu-
lous manner. I fed half of it to Sally; but she was
too far gone, and expired with a convulsive wriggle,
ten minutes later. That was a very bitter blow.
Her disposition had been loving and affectionate, and
her ways gentle. However, sentiment had to be put
on one side, and Sally prepared for the pickle bottle,
so that even though she had gone from me, she might
not be lost to science. In the course of these prepara-

264 . TIBETAN TREK

tions, I solved the mystery of her death. She had
eaten something which had not agreed with her, and
had died of indigestion, poor old thing.

Nogmung was so clean and tidy that it was almost
like coming into civilisation. The houses were neatly
arranged in streets, and there was even a school,
attended by boys and girls whose ages ranged from
twenty down to four or five. We were told that there
was a population of about a hundred; but, if that
were so, Heaven knows where they all fitted in!
The hut we were in was as good as could be, right
on the banks of the river. I had not been there for
more than ten minutes, before I was paid a visit by
the Shan Government Officer who made Nogmung
his headquarters. He was all dressed up for the
occasion in a spotlessly white shirt, which put my old
rags to shame. His servants brought along two chairs
and a table, all home-made and incredibly heavy;
but as we had had neither since leaving Modung, we
wanted nothing better.

It was wonderful to have something to lean back
against when we sat down, and to be able to indulge in
bad manners by resting our elbows during meals.
A really astonishing gift was the mug of Nesde’s
“ Cafe au Lait,” steaming hot, which he presented,
with a flourish, to wash down a large dish of bananas.
Out of the goodness of his heart, he had sent a man
the forty odd miles to Fort Hertz to buy a tin from
the bazaar, as soon as he heard of our approach.
B. C. arrived the following day, and, to celebrate his
return to the fold, we ate that historic Christmas
pudding for dinner. By then we knew for certain

NOT LOST 265

that we would meet no one before we got to Fort
Hertz, so there was no sense in keeping it.

He had had an exciting adventure on the way in.
Striding along the path in front of the coolies, a
lizard hurtled across not two feet in front of him.
For some obscure reason he stopped dead, and before
he had time to think, a big black snake came shooting
out of the grass after the lizard and actually brushed
his knee. If he had not halted he would have been
right in the snake’s way, and would certainly have
been bitten.

From B.G.’s point of view there was a lot of work to
be done in that village; but, just because of that,
out of sheer spite the weather changed for the worse
again, and held matters up. Since Pangnamdim it
had been fine, but now, although we did not have a
great deal of rain, what sun there was filtered down
through a continuous layer of cloud, and was quite
useless for colour photography; Neither of us felt
energetic, however, and indeed were glad of a rest,
so we did not grumble — at least, for the first two
days.

Nogmung was a pleasant spot. Every day at sun-
rise we were woken by the gibbons in the nearby
forest, who saluted the mom with cheerful hoots,
and, where the path ended on the edge of the water,
the sand was covered all day long by a fluttering
carpet of gorgeous black and green butterflies. From
our veranda we could see fifty yards or so of the
Nam Tisang. Further than that our view was cut
off by thick bushes, and the water was so smooth
that we might as well have been looking at a lake.

TIBETAN TREK.

266

On the evening of B. C.’s arrival the air was deathly-
still, and a very beautiful sunset was reflected off the
water in a blaze of blue, orange, red and gold. The
only visible sign of life was a heron, gravely stirring
up the mud in the shallows with slow sweeps of its
spindly legs, while it peered thoughtfully into the
river. The glow faded as the sun sank below the hills,
and suddenly it was night, with myriads of great stars
which seemed to stand out in perspective, so that our
eyes passed from one to another, further and further
into space.

The inhabitants of Nogmung were divided into
two distinct classes. There were those who were
cheerfully pagan and full of life, and the others who
had been converted to a miserable travesty of one of the
least inspiring of the many varieties of Christianity.
These unfortunates had been filled with the thoughts
of sin and the terror of damnation, neither of which,
previously, had ever entered their heads. They had
got religion so badly that all the fun had been wiped
out of their lives. However, they enjoyed singing
hymns, if nothing else. It was a Mission School,
and at least twice a day they sang for ten or fifteen
minutes with the utmost fervour. The words were
Shan, but some of the tunes were recognisable as
well-known English ones. They were quite pleasing
to hear, although, as rendered by those converts, they
were much more like Maori music than English.
Work in the school started off early in the morning
with song, and continued with reading, writing, and
arithmetic, all taught by a rather oily young native,
who fancied at first that because he was a Christian

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267

he could come up and slap us on the back. At mid-
day the scholars came trooping out into the com-
pound behind our house, and were solemnly marched
round for half an hour in single file. Then came a
break for lunch, and after that back into the class-
rooms again until late in the afternoon, when the day
was brought to an end with more hymns.

The unregenerate Shans in the village spent their
time working in the fields, or, as far as the women
were concerned, in doing the housework and cooking
the food. It was a picturesque sight at sundown to
see them walking in a long line down to the river,
with great pipes of bamboo slung on their backs, two
apiece, to fetch water for the evening meal.

There was a certain amount of difficulty in getting
hold of coolies. The Shan officer said that the crops
were just coming along, and that it would be better
if we could send our gear in two batches, so as not to
empty the village too much at one time. We packed
off everything we could spare the next morning. We
knew it was tempting providence to send the pickle
bottles, and, sure enough, on the following day
Reginald made an abortive attempt to bite me, threw
a fit, and died in frightful convulsions. I had a shot
at skinning him, but made such a hash of it that he
had to be flung into the river, a dead loss. My snakes
were behaving like the Ten Little Nigger Boys.
From seven they had dwindled to four, and now
Christabel also was beginning to look a bit sickly.
B. G. and I agreed that these blows of Fate were both
scandalous and undeserved, and sent out a man
to scour the countryside for bananas which would

TIBETAN TREK

268

counteract our gloom. After a long time he brought
in five semi-decomposed specimens, which were all
that the place could provide. Bananas had made
up three-quarters of our diet since we had arrived in
Nogmung, eked out now and then with a fowl, and,
if we were to be deprived of them, it was hard to know
what was to be done. It was the same tale as at
Shigatang : the rice was not yet ripe, and the villagers
themselves were running short of food. Pinzho hunted
about, and eventually was able to buy four pitiful-
looking chickens, which we hoped would last for nearly
a week. But the sky remained dull, and when, after
two more days, there still seemed to be no prospect
of B. G. being able to take his pictures, we decided
that it would be better for me to leave him there and
hurry off to Fort Hertz to send him back supplies.
Accordingly, I took one of the birds, some rice, and
a little tea, and set off to try to do the four marches
in two days. B. G. was prepared to wait indefinitely
for a really fine day, but thought that the weather
ought to improve within a week. Adding four days
for his journey to Fort Hertz, that meant that I was
not to expect him for about ten days, and was to send
food to last him for that time. Pinzho stopped behind
to look after him.

It was a vilely wet day when we left. We started
away at six, and I had not meant to wake B. C., as I
could see no point in robbing him of a couple of hours’
sleep; but at the last minute I barked my shin on
one of the chairs, and he sat up with a start. Very
nobly, he came out into the rain as far as the river-
bank to see us off, and stood cheerily waving until we

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269

were out of sight. We piled into a dug-out canoe,
some twenty feet long and eighteen inches wide, and
were ferried over to the other side. There were six
of us in the boat, three coolies, myself and two ferry-
men, and it was rather a squash. My coolies were an
ill-favoured lot. There were two women and a man.
Except in age and plainness, the females were as
different from each other as possible. Both were
about nineteen; but while one was a lumbering
great wench, with bones like a horse and no flesh,
the other was not much more than half her height,
and padded out like a little sausage. The man was
a big fellow with matted hair which fell down almost
into his eyes. He kept the women very much in
order, shouting at them on the way like a demented
sergeant-major. They all three worked like heroes,
and did wonderfully well.

About half an hour after we left the river, we were
met by a resplendent figure in a red turban, carrying
an umbrella and a very old carbine, with a pair of
boots slung round his neck. He halted and gave me
an impressive salute. He turned out to be a police-
man from Fort Hertz acting as escort to the food
which Leedham had sent along. The coolie who
was carrying it followed humbly behind. I looked
to see what there was before sending it off to B. G.
again, and was rejoiced to find a tin of fifty “ Gold
Flake,” of which I took six. I felt rather mean about
taking any at all ; but comforted myself by remember-
ing that B. G. preferred a pipe, and that in any case I
could send him some more with his next lot of supplies.

During the first part of the day we had very little

TIBETAN TREK

270

climbing to do. The path ran diagonally across the
floor of the valley, through thick jungle, dripping wet
and full of leeches. A short way up a narrow valley,
nine miles from Nogmung, we came to the hut which
marked the end of that stage, and rested there for a
while. I was soaked to the skin, and became rather
chilly during that halt, so I left the coolies and hurried
on as fast as I could to keep warm. There was a
very steep slope up to the top of the next ridge, and
then a long and tiring series of ups and downs. I
reached the next shelter at half-past four, twenty-one
miles from our starting point. It was a good hut,
with a rough bedstead in it, on which I sat and
smoked while waiting for the coolies. I was sus-
piciously footsore, and found that both soles had been
worn completely through, so that my boots were of
very little use except to protect the tops of my feet
from sharp grass and broken branches.

It became dark soon after six, and I grew colder
and hungrier every minute. By eight o’clock I was
half frozen, without even a light to cheer me, and so,
giving up all hope of seeing the coolies again that
night, I huddled up on the bed and fell into a troubled
sleep, using the case of my field-glasses as a pillow.
I had not been lying down long, when a dim figure
came into the room, saw me, and dashed out again.
It was a stray Khanung who had been going to spend
the night in the Rest House, and had been smitten
with terror at finding it already occupied. There
was another hut twenty yards off, which was specially
reserved for coolies, and I heard him making his way
to that, before dozing off again. <

■NOT LOST

27I

In what seemed like the middle of the night, I was
woken by a flickering blaze shining in through the
loosely-plaited walls, and in came the coolies at last,
carrying torches to light up the path. It was a
glorious feeling to be able to change into something
warm and dry, and it more than made up for the
time of tribulation. They went to some secret store
of dry wood, and in a few minutes had a good fire
burning, which still further served to thaw me out.
They must have been very tired; but, although the
man told the women to run away and rest, he him-
self refused to go until he had cooked my rice for
me, and had made me some tea.

We made another early start the next morning, in
good shape, all except for my feet, which were be-
coming a nuisance. Not far below that hut we
crossed the Nam Ti by mule suspension bridge, and
had a long and gradual climb to the top of the last
ridge, followed by an equally slow descent to the
plain. From the top there was nothing to be seen
but an almost unbroken expanse of forest ; but when
we came to the bottom we found it to be mostly
swamp, intersected by a large number of shallow
streams, and very muddy. The coolies dropped
behind, and after ten miles I came out of the woods
and reached the banks of the Mali Hka, or Western
Irrawaddy, where there was a small village called
Kankiu. The Headman rushed forward to usher me
into the Rest House, and was struck speechless with
disappointment when he found I was not going to
stop there. His dismay was not caused by any sudden
affection for me, but because he had lost a possible

272 TIBETAN TREK

rupee for supplies. He and another old man buckled
to, however, and ferried me over the river, using a
couple of split bamboos for paddles, which looked
singularly inefficient, but which somehow contrived
to move the canoe along at quite a good speed. The
Mali Hka was about two hundred and fifty yards
wide at that point, and very sluggish.

From the far side, the path ran on over undulating
country for another twelve miles. The first half of
the way was all jungle; but after that I came out on
to the open plain, covered with long grass and reeds.
Every few hundred yards there was a huge hole in
the road, full of soft black mud and water, which
made it look as though the place had been shelled.
They were buffalo wallows, in which the cattle liked
to lie during the heat of the day, with as little of
them showing above the slough as possible. There
was nothing else to break the monotony of that path.
It seemed to stretch on and on interminably.

My feet grew steadily more painful, and it seemed
as though I would never finish that day; but at last,
to my unspeakable joy, I topped a small hill and saw
Fort Hertz two miles beyond, clustering on the banks
of a stream. Beyond it, and a little higher up, were
three bungalows and some corrugated-iron huts.

It was five o’clock, and the cattle were being driven
back from the fields. When I reached the village, I
was accosted by an old Gurkha, who had migrated
from Nepal years before. He was very anxious for
me to honour his poor abode for a short time, and
perhaps have something to eat. At first I refused, as
I wanted to get on and pay my respects to Leedham

Mule Bridge, Pangnamdim (p. 271).

NOT LOST 273

and any other Englishman there might be; but I
was terribly hungry, and it suddenly struck me that
I should find it easier to behave at dinner if I took
the edge off my appetite first. My host shared his
house with two goats, a pig, and half a dozen hens.
He gave me milk, boiled eggs, bananas, and the story
of his life, while I sat at ease in a dangerously aged
deck-chair. My feet could almost be heard giving
thanks for the rest. Half an hour later I thanked the
old man, and wearily started off again, crossing the
stream by a smart and solid bridge, and climbing up
the last eight hundred yards to the European quarter.
It was September the 24th, just two hundred days
since we had left Sadiya.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL

<e Behold I see the haven nigh at hand,

To which I meane my wearie course to bend ;

There eke my feeble bark awhile may stay,

Till merry wind and weather call her thence away / 9

Spenser, The Faerie Queene , I, xii. i.

I limped along towards the three bungalows, wonder-
ing which of them belonged to Leedham and if there
were a Rest House anywhere near at hand. No one
was in sight; but, as I paused for a minute to weigh
up the respective merits of the various places, there
came the sound of flying feet, and a strange individual
dashed up at full speed. Before I had time to say a
word, a torrent of excited speech burst from him. He
told me that he was the doctor’s cook, that his name
was Rickoo, that he came from Garwhal, and that he
did not get on with his wife. He took a deep breath,
and then went on to give me all the tit-bits of local
gossip. When I could stem the flood, I asked where
the Rest House was, and had he seen the baggage we
had sent on in advance from Nogmung. All these
things he said he knew, and many more; but there
was no need for me to bother my head about Dak
bungalows yet, as the Captain Sahib had taken my
goods into his own house, and would doubtless give

me a cup of tea if I went round to see him.

274

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 275

At last I shook off old Rickoo, who was certainly
batty, and went on to the bungalow he had pointed
out. I had not been there many minutes before
Captain W. M. F. Gamble, the Assistant Com-
mandant, came back, and insisted on my staying
there with him. This was all the more generous on
his part, as supplies only come up once a year to Fort
Hertz, in November, and his stores were at a very low
ebb. Gamble was a most excellent man. He be-
longed to the Ninth Punjabi Regiment, and, having
come to Burma for the Rebellion, had been posted to
Fort Hertz, which suited him down to the ground,
as there is the finest Mahseer fishing in the world to
be had within a few miles of the place, and plenty of
shooting. His bungalow seemed just like Heaven to
me. He had a wonderful cook and a gramophone
with a big selection of records, varying from the hottest
jazz to the most highbrow opera. Better still, I had
a proper bed with sheets and an enormous mosquito
curtain, under which I could toss about as much as I
pleased. He was about the same size as myself, and
ideal host that he was, he even lent me evening
clothes to change into.

We held quite a reception that night. Mr. and Mrs.
Leedham came in after dinner, followed a little later
by Dr. Nihal Chand, and we all had a long and to me
very delightful talk. I found that the bottle of beer
they had sent with the stores to Nogmung had been
the last one in the place, willingly sacrificed on the
principle that our need was greater than theirs.
Going to bed that night, I felt too cheerful for words,
but wished that B. C. could be with me to enjoy things
as well.

TIBETAN TREK

276

The next day, Gamble took me round to the hos-
pital, which was the pride of the old doctor’s heart.
It was spotlessly clean, and very efficiently run by
Nihal Chand himself and two sub-assistant surgeons.
The snake-bite on my finger had gone septic, and the
place on my shin, which I had now had for six months,
was still far from well. Gamble stood by with a grin
and made a mock of my sufferings, while the doctor
set to work with a will. With ghoulish joy he cut
open my finger, and scooped around with a probe,
clucking disapprovingly as he dug into the wound.
When that was over, he laid me fiat on my back, and
pumped my veins full of iodine, saying cheerily while
he did so that I would have a high temperature that
evening as a result and would feel rotten. Sure
enough I did; but it was a miraculous treatment,
and in three days everything was completely cured.

Nihal Chand was a wonderful old man, with a
tremendous sense of duty. He said himself that he
was terrified of the dark; but Gamble told me that
time and again natives had come in for him late at
night to say that someone was very sick in a neigh-
bouring village, and that the doctor had gone off
straight away with his bag and a lantern to walk ten
miles or so through the jungle, with the possibility of
a tiger bounding out at any moment, to say nothing
of snakes. His greatest effort, however, was when
Stanford, the Deputy-Commissioner at Myitkyina,
went down with enteric seventy miles from Fort Hertz.
As soon as word came in, Nihal Chand started away,
hardly giving himself time to do more than pack his
medicine, and covered the whole distance in twenty-
four hours, an amazing feat of endurance. Gamble was

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 277

very pleased to hear that B. C. and I had been with
Kingdon Ward, as he knew him quite well of old.
He had met him and Lord Cranbrook first on Christ-
mas day two years before, and they had celebrated
together. Later on, when those two came back from
the Adung Valley, they stopped for a short time with
the Leedhams, and he had seen more of them. I
should hardly think there is a single place on the
frontiers of India or Burma where Kingdon Ward is
not known and liked.

My life was very comfortable at Fort Hertz. Once
I had sent off the supplies to B. C., I had nothing in
particular to do. I was called every day at six with
a cup of tea and the latest edition of the Times, which
was only about six weeks old, and lay in bed reading
for the next hour and a half. I very seldom did
anything but laze in the mornings, reflecting on the
pleasures of existence, and browsing among Gamble’s
books, which were quite as assorted as his records.
When he came back from the Orderly Room in the
afternoons we had tea, and then played a stirring game
of football with the Gurkhas from whom the Military
Police are mainly recruited. In the first game
Gamble was marking me, and there was a titanic
struggle between the two of us. We had many
shattering collisions, and in the end he sent me
flying into a patch of bog, where I skidded on my back
for a measured distance of six yards. This battle for
supremacy delighted the Gurkhas ; but we were
both so shattered after it that we took care in all other
games to be on opposite sides of the field. The men
were tough little players, and charged like battering-
rams. Their small size was more of an advantage than

278 TIBETAN TREK

a handicap when they came up against us, as their
shoulders invariably took us straight in the wind.

On September the 26th they had a great festival
to which we were all invited. A guard of honour,
consisting of ten men and a tom-tom, came along
after dinner to escort us down, and when we arrived
we were sat at a long table and plied with whisky
and sweetmeats. A rough stage had been put
up, on which mystically melodramatic plays were
performed, full of holy men, villainous kings, and
languishing princesses. The soldiers who took the
part of women were extraordinarily good, and were
so demure that the house was kept in fits of laughter.
There was always trouble, with the curtain, and a
fair amount of prompting was called for ; but it was
a thoroughly good show all the same. In the intervals
there were Nepali dances to the music of a weird little
orchestra, made up of a leaky accordian, drums and
cymbals. Gamble had promised that we too would
add to the general gaiety, so half-way through the
evening we stepped up on the platform to thunderous
rounds of applause, and while I played the balalaika,
he gave a brilliant exhibition of solo dancing. He was
a tremendous success, and the audience were eager
for an encore; but as long as we were there the
soldiers had to hold themselves in check, and feeling
that it was not fair on them for us to stop, we packed
up and went to bed.

A couple of days later we went out after snipe ;
but had little luck, as the birds had already left the
neighbourhood. In fact, we only saw about two.
We brought down one of them; but it was only
winged, and escaped in the marshes. It was an

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 279

amusing day, however, and good exercise. On
several occasions we had to wade through creeks
where the water was three or four feet deep. Gamble
was leading in one of these, when all of a sudden I
saw half a dozen ripples in the water converging on
us from all sides. I yelled “ Ware leeches ! ” and
we both crossed that creek like high-powered motor-
boats; but not quickly enough to escape. Those
buffalo-leeches live entirely in the water, and can
swim pretty fast. There was one on my knee, five
inches long and as thick as a piece of clothes line,
which we were quite unable to pull off. In the end
we had to burn it with a match before it decided to
leave go. Many of them are mildly poisonous and
cause nasty sores; but that time we rid ourselves of
them with, such frantic speed that we were not bitten
at all.

Wednesday was the big day of the week at Fort
Hertz, as it was then that the three mail-bullocks
arrived from Myitkyina. Their bells could be heard
when still a long way down the road, as they plodded
along with their Chinese drivers, bringing news from
home and a week’s supply of papers. Refreshed by
the arrival of letters, Gamble initiated me into the
art of spinning, at which he is an expert. He lent
me a rod and some tackle, and after some preliminary
i n struction we went down to Nawng Hkai, thirteen
miles away on the banks of the Mali Hka, for three
glorious days. Previously, the only fishing I had
done had been with fly for trout, which is a peaceful
occupation. Spinning for mahseer was just the
reverse. The river was full of rapids at Nawng Hkai
and the banks were covered with enormous boulders.

280 TIBETAN TREK

All day long we clambered about from one likely place
to another, sometimes standing waist-deep in the
water, at other times perched on a rock twenty feet
above it. It was when a fish took hold that the game
began; for it would make off down the rapids like
an express train, and just about as unstoppable. To
save our line, the only thing to do was to follow as
fast as we could, crashing about among the stones and
praying that the fish would take a rest and allow us
to wind in again.

Gamble’s record fish was one of seventy-two pounds,
and, in that water, it took him three hours to land it.
My biggest was twenty-two, and I was as thrilled as
if I had caught a whale.

Some parts of the river we could only reach by
fishing from canoes, and that was good fun too. It
took quite a bit of practice to be able to stand up in
one of those dug-outs and cast, without either over-
balancing and falling in, or catching the boatmen by
the ear. Gamble was as steady as a rock ; but I very
nearly came to grief many times, to the great delight
of the Shans.

In the evening we went back to the Rest House,
very tired but happy, and sat placidly listening to the
gramophone until it was time for bed.

I was beginning to get rather anxious about B. C.
and to think that it was time I went back to look for
him, when on the morning of the tenth day Pinzho
suddenly appeared. He told me that B. C. was very
ill, and that he was being brought along from Kankiu
by boat. A couple of hours later a messenger ran
up with news that he had arrived. Gamble and I
hurried off to the river, and found him in a very bad

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 281

way with malaria. He had gone sick at Nogmung,
but had managed to march as far as Kankiu before
he was completely bowled over. The fever had not
been improved by the fact that it was a blazing hot
day, and that he had had to lie in the canoe with the
sun beating down on him for six solid hours. A
dozen Gurkhas lifted him on a bed and carried him
up to Gamble’s bungalow, and the old doctor came
along as soon as might be. By the evening he was
running a temperature of a hundred and five, and, as
it was feared that at any moment he might easily
leave this world for a better, the doctor sat up with
him all night, doing everything in his power to bring
the temperature down. Luckily, at three in the
morning it suddenly dropped, and all was well. He
felt pretty rotten for the next week ; but began steadily
to pick up strength again from that day on.

Mosquitoes were bad even at Fort Hertz, where all
manner of campaigns had been waged against them,
and we all had to dose ourselves regularly to ward
off the fever.

Pinzho simply revelled in the company of the Gurkhas;
all the more so since he had served with them
during the War, and was an old soldier himself. He
spent all his spare time in telling them of the marvel-
lous places he had been to, and the still more wonderful
things he was going to do in later years. At first, he
felt that he was rather too ragged to be able to impress
them sufficiently with a sense of his vast importance,
so he came to me to ask if I would provide him with
some new clothes. Armed with money, he hurried
away to the canteen, and appeared, a couple of hours
later, radiant in brown gym-shoes, a pair of brilliant

TIBETAN TREK

282

football stockings, some new white shorts, and a
broad-brimmed felt hat, many sizes too small for him,
which he wore like a nutshell balanced precariously
on the top of his head. That hat was his greatest
treasure, and we never saw him take it off even for a
moment. In or out of the house, it was all the same
to him, and we came to the serious conclusion that
he must have slept in the thing.

The Shans held their Harvest Festival on October
the 20th. All day long gay little processions paraded
about, each with a small gilt pagoda or a tree carried
on a platform by twelve or fifteen women, and pre-
ceded by a band of gongs and cymbals. A crowd
of admirers followed, who shouted in unison, and
every now and then broke into a few little hops
and skips. Gamble was not feeling very fit, and B. C.
was still weak, so that night I went down by myself
to the pagoda among the rice-fields. There was 'a
queer little tamasha going on there. In one place a
circle had been cleared in the crowd of spectators,
and a play was being acted by the light of a smoky
old hurricane lamp which hung from a drooping
piece of palm. In the middle of the glare stood
two motionless figures. For about a minute at a
time one of them would hurriedly intone something
in a low and nervous voice, and then, at the end of
the peroration, gongs would throb and cymbals
clatter, the audience would shout or moan in chorus,
and the two performers would do half a dozen mourn-
ful little pirouettes. Then once again the dreary
declamation. At intervals comic relief was brought
into the show by two other actors, one of whom was
disguised in an old army greatcoat, and the other,

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 283

as a demon, by a piece of monkey skin which fell
over his face. It frequently dropped off altogether, and
at such moments the proceedings were held up until
it was readjusted. These stalwarts carried on a spirited
argument, causing the audience to rock with mirth,
and finished by catching hold of each other and madly
belabouring the opposing posteriors as they twirled
round and round. The crowd grew almost hysterical
with delight, laughing until they wheezed and
choked, and when the comedians (as they invariably
did) brought their act to a finish by falling flat on
the ground, the joy was boundless. After that the
serious drama would start again.

Next door there was a weaving competition going
on among the women. Seven or eight little booths
had been put up, in each of which was a loom and a
team of six women working for dear life by the light
of cheap tallow dips. As soon as the one seated at
the loom showed signs of becoming tired, a relief
took her place, and small girls were kept busy run-
ning up and down to report on the progress of all
the other teams. The cloth they wove was of a
brilliant red, and was intended to make clothes for
the image of Buddha in the pagoda. A Hindu tailor
was pedalling away at his sewing-machine near by,
stitching the garments together as fast as the material
was brought to him, while a crowd of small boys
passed rude remarks on his workmanship and per-
sonal appearance.

In the ante-room of the pagoda stood a table
heaped with the offerings of the pious, a pathetic
assortment of gifts for the most part. There was a
sausage tied up with red tape, a couple of bananas

284 TIBETAN TREK

tastefully decorated with pieces of coloured paper,
a few little piles of beans, three or four cucumbers,
and the like. The people were all as poor as church
mice. The women worked all day in their gardens,
and came back in the evening, after a full day’s
work, with baskets of vegetables for which they
might get two or three pice (perhaps a penny at the
most), and it touched me to the heart to see these
presents of theirs on the table, sacrifices which must
have meant a great deal of self-denial. In front of
the Buddha, in the main hall of the temple, were
burning hundreds of candles, and joss-sticks filled
the entire place with thick, scented smoke. Through
the haze could be dimly seen a priest in his yellow
robes earnestly working a cheap portable gramophone
which blared out a number of fourth-rate English
comic songs, to the great satisfaction of all the
crowd within earshot. People had come in from
miles around to attend the festivities, and, walking
round the pagoda, I had to tread carefully so as not
to fall over the many sleeping figures who covered
the ground. I was there for about two hours, having
been adopted by the schoolmaster’s small son, a
friendly little ruffian of three ; but the time passed
so quickly that I was amazed when I found how
long it had really been.

We went down to Nawng Hkai once again after
that, taking B. C. with us, as we felt that a change
of air might do him good . He was not strong enough
to do any fishing, but I think he enjoyed himself
nevertheless. On our first day there, he came out
with us, and sat in one of the canoes for a while,
giving us both valuable hints on the exposures for

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 285

the few snaps we wanted. The rest of the time he
sat in the Rest House reading and smoking, and he
certainly looked a new man by the time we went
back to Fort Hertz again. That fact made up for
my grief at losing two more of my family. To give the
snakes room to move about, I had had a special box
made for them; but I found on our return that
Ghristabel had died of some obscure disease, and
that Bertram had been killed by accident. It
appeared that he had escaped one night, and had
been found in the morning comfortably curled up
in the drawing-room. The servants, knowing the
great store I set by him, seized him with a pair of
tongs and popped him into a bottle for safe keeping,
wedging the cork home to make certain he did not
escape again. The wretched Bertram died of suffo-
cation, a victim of misdirected zeal. They said they
did not dare to open the box to put him back where
he belonged, for fear that Cuthbert or Cuthberta
should attack them. These two were the only ones
left to me then, and I showered upon them all the
affection which had once been shared amongst so
many.

Gamble had done everything he could for us, and
had given us a wonderful time — indeed, everyone
had been as kind as possible; but by October the
28th we came to the conclusion that we really could
not impose ourselves on him any longer. We already
felt like the worst sort of parasites, especially I who
had been living on his tiny stocks for more than a
month; and so we collected coolies again and set
off on the two hundred and twenty miles march to
Myitkyina, the railhead, which is only two days by

TIBETAN TREK

286

train from Rangoon. One of Leedham’s clerks pre-
sented me with a huge sheet of paper on leaving,
with the s thumb-mark of each coolie in ink against
his name. That was their undertaking to serve us
faithfully for as long as we wanted them, and he said
that they looked upon it as a great privilege to be
allowed to sign an agreement in that way.

It was a burning hot day when we left. The rains
were over at last, and the path was inches deep in
fine dust, which rose up in clouds at every step we
took, filling our throats and giving us the most
appalling thirst. The country was all as flat as a
pancake on the first march, but even so B. C., who
was still a bit weak after his bout of fever, found the
way very hard, and was tired out by the time we
came into Nawng Hkai. The stages were all of
about thirteen miles, becoming hillier as we went
on. He never complained, but kept pegging along
through the heat, relying more and more on his
stick, until at Masumzup he suddenly collapsed.
He had a high temperature and great pain in breath-
ing, which made me afraid that he was down with
pneumonia, so we halted there, forty miles from
Fort Hertz, and I sent back a runner for the doctor.
When he arrived two days later he found, to my
great relief, that it was not pneumonia, but a direct
after-effect of the malaria, though it was quite serious
enough to warrant him staying on for a week to look
after the sufferer. ■:

By the end of that time B. C. was pronounced fit
to travel again, as I had been able to borrow a pony
fpr him to ride, so that he would not get particularly
tired on the marches. The only trouble about hav-

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 287

ing to wait at Masumzup for all that time was that it
was very hard to get hold of any food for him. You
cannot feed an invalid indefinitely on rice and expect
him to get well quickly, and that was practically all
that we had. There were no other stores to be ob-
tained in Fort Hertz until the yearly supply train came
in, except chickens, and as, in normal circumstances,
you can get those at every Rest House, we had not
bothered to bring any along with us. But the
bungalows are only intended for visits of a night or
two when people are passing up or down the road,
and are not victualled for an army. The coolies
proved willing helpers, however, and used to prowl
over the country on our behalf, buying up any fowl
they came across, and by this means there was always
soup for B. C., not to mention a better meal than
plain rice for the doctor and me.

When we moved on again, Nihal Chand came along
with us for two more days just to keep an eye on his
patient, and to see that he had no relapse, and then,
as we were not far away from the little outpost of
Chingnambum, he seized the opportunity to pay
it a visit, in case there might be any serious
cases there which were beyond the skill of the sub-
assistant surgeon who was in charge. We were very
sorry to see him go. He had been a most amusing
companion, and his stories about some of the experi-
ences of a doctor in Upper Burma were packed full
of interest and very funny.

Word of our interest in snakes had spread abroad,
and shortly after the doctor left, four men arrived
with the skin of a big python which they had just
killed. It was over twenty feet long, and I would

TIBETAN TREK

288

have bought it like a shot if the silly fools had not
cut it down the back instead of along the stomach.
As things were, it was ruined, although it would
have been a very fine skin. They had killed it with
a spear in the back of the neck, and as they swore
it was not full fed, and therefore torpid, when they
found it, it must have been a risky business attacking
it. While B. C. sat back with a benign smile, I
improved the occasion by giving the hunters a lec-
ture on how to skin snakes in future; but they were
so disappointed at not having made a sale, that I
doubt if they paid much attention, more especially
as my discourse came to them second-hand through
the caretaker qf the bungalow, who acted as inter-
preter.

B. G. had conceived the great idea of asking the
District Engineer at Myitkyina whether he could
possibly manage to send a light lorry to carry us and
all our goods from Sumprabum over the last hundred
and thirty miles. The doctor had not been very en-
thusiastic about the plan, saying that in the first
place he had never heard of a lorry going as far as
that, and, in the second, that he was certain no cars
of any sort would be allowed to travel over that
part of the road so soon after the rains; but in spite
of his doubts, he took the message with him to Ching-
nambum. It was heliographed to Sumprabum and
sent on by wire from there. Our faith was justified,
however, when we found an old Chevrolet waiting
for us five days later. We were very grateful to the
powers that be for sending it, as it was the first car
to have reached Sumprabum since the previous spring.
There was not room enough in it to take more than

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 289

one of us with a box and bedding, so, as B. C. did
not want to be parted from all his film cases, I left
first. That was on November the 13th, and early
the next morning we rattled off, leaving him and
Pinzho to hold the fort until the car could come
back for them. Besides the driver, we carried a
mechanic in case the aged vehicle fell to pieces.

I do not remember a great deal about the drive
down (except that we seemed to go round hairpin
bends at breakneck speed, and that from time to
time we stuck fast in mud), as I had a sharp touch of
fever on the way and was past taking much interest
in things. We averaged nearly ten miles an hour,
and at ten that night arrived in Myitkyina, where
some kind soul dosed me with quinine and put me to
bed in the Circuit House. I recovered just as quickly
as I had fallen sick, and was waiting on the door-
step for B. C. when he arrived with Pinzho a few days
later. We were both very kindly taken in by Mr.
and Mrs. Stanford and given a great time, with tea-
parties, visits to the Club, and drives in their car.
We watched polo every afternoon, and altogether
lived on the fat of the land like Kings.

There is nothing much to describe about Myit-
kyina itself. It is a very ordinary town on the banks
of the Irrawaddy, with pleasant houses for the white
population and a large number of native shops,
mostly owned by Chinese. The place is, however,
remarkable for the great hospitality of the people
who live in it, and I shall always have the warmest
feelings towards it in consequence. The atmosphere
suited the snakes, who seemed well and very docile.
I mentioned them one evening to Stanford, and said

TIBETAN TREK

200

that, though there was no question of their not
being poisonous, they had never tried to bite me.
He was astounded, and asked to see them. I put
in my hand to bring out Cuthberta, and instantly,
to my horrified amazement, she struck like a devil,
objecting, I suppose, to being shown off in front of
strangers. Luckily it was nearly dark, and she
missed ; but it gave me quite a turn, and I had to
use gloves for both of them ever afterwards, as, from
then on, they struck every time I went near them.

Since May all my mail had been held by Grace in
Sadiya; for it was impossible to send it on to us
after the death of our courier. I wired to him from
Fort Hertz, asking for it to be forwarded to me at
Myitkyina, and such a huge bundle of letters turned
up there that it took all of three days to read them
through. B. G. had forgotten to leave any address
when he left England, and it was sad to find that
there was not a single one for him, though he bore
the blow like a man.

Most of mine were from my mother, and I was
enormously interested to read how strangely correct had
been her inner knowledge of what I had been doing
on the Expedition. She has the most extraordinary
gift of literally being able to see what is happening
to Bill and myself when we are away from her. The
very scenes come before her, with the events and
characters, and, though not always correct in every
detail, they are so amazingly clear-cut that Bill and
I are nearly always able to verify them. The time
is very often quite correct, too, though it varies ;
sometimes being before, and, at other times, after the
event. Now and then, in her letters, a picture

RETURN OF THE PRODIGAL 291

cropped up which gave the gist of what had been
happening, but was slightly mixed. For instance,
what struck my eye almost at once was that she
asked whether, on November the 7th, I had killed
a big snake by hitting it a sharp blow at the back
of the neck, and then skinned it myself because
the natives did not know how to do it properly.
My mind instantly flew back to those Shans who
had tried to sell me the skin on that very day, and
to my lecture on how they ought to have done it.
I could go on writing pages about this, but it has
nothing to do with the subject of the book ; so I must
leave it. "v : - ■ y’IS

B. C. was going to spend the next two or three
months wandering about in India and taking various
short films, and so, as I wanted to arrive home in
time for Christmas, I left him and took the train for
Rangoon. He had to wait for the greater part of
our baggage, which was slowly coming down from
Sumprabum in a bullock-cart, but, under the kind
treatment of the Stanfords, he was picking up strength
every day, and the rest was doing him good. They
all came down to see me off at the station, where
Pinzho, still in his ridiculous hat, had been doing
great work by booking my boxes and seeing that all
was well in the carriage, while tears trickled miser-
ably down his face. It felt queerly lonely to be going
off for good without either B. G. or him ; but I was
well looked after by a small and spotlessly clean
Kachin servant called Ma Tang, whom I had tem-
porarily taken into my employment. He wanted to
go to Rangoon to meet his master, who was coming
back from leave.

TIBETAN TREK

292

We reached Mandalay the following morning (a
Sunday), and it struck me as being the deadest place
I had ever seen, Marseilles not excluded. It was
baking hot, the streets were deserted, and there
seemed to be nothing to do but to look over the old
palace of the Burmese Kings, which was depressing
beyond words. Faded majesty was not in it with
that place. It had been turned into a grimy and
dreadful edition of Madame Tussaud’s, with papier
mache figures dressed in tawdry robes and arranged
in glass cases. I went round the whole place more
from a sense of duty than anything else, and then
returned to spend what seemed like a lifetime in the
waiting-room on the platform until my train came
in, six hours later. After one night more I reached
Rangoon. Cuthbert and Cuthberta promptly died,
and after the burial I set out to find a boat for home.
I had just missed the only one which would get me
back before the end of December, so I crossed over
to Calcutta, which took three days, spent the after-
noon there with my uncle, and left that same evening
to catch a City and Hall liner from Bombay.

I was very lucky to arrive a week before Bill’s
regiment sailed for the Sudan, so that I was able to
see him and have a chat. I was thrilled to find that
he also had managed to get leave to go into Tibet
during the summer. He had been there for two
months, having travelled along the main trade route
towards Lhasa with one Bhutanese servant; but had
not been allowed to go further than Gyangtse, which
had disappointed him, since he had hoped to be able
to get as far as Shigatse, the last big town south of
Lhasa. He had thoroughly enjoyed himself, though,

RETURN OE THE PRODIGAL 293

and besides having been the first white man to cross a
certain pass called the Yak La, he had grown a
villainous beard, photos of which he proudly showed
me.

Two days later I sailed for England on the City of
Simla , on board of which I fell in with a boon com-
panion by the name of Auld, a gunner. Together
we came to the conclusion that life on a ship was a
demoralising affair, and that we had better do some
work to keep us fit. We put the matter before the
Chief Engineer, who said that if we liked we could
act as honorary stokers, and so for two hours every
afternoon we toiled among the furnaces, shovelling
coal and marvelling at the men who laboured for
eight hours a day in that infernal atmosphere of coal-
dust and steam and were still alive at the end. Going
through the Red Sea it was pretty warm in the stoke-
hold; but though we weighed ourselves daily in the
engine-room when we tottered out after our spell of
work, we always felt as if we had been swindled, for
the most we ever lost was something less than a
pound.

At Suez I fell sick of the palsy again, and had to
resign my position, but Comrade Auld continued at
his job all the way to Marseilles, emerging from the
bowels of the ship punctually at tea-time every day,
hideously black, but undismayed. We disembarked
there and cheered ourselves with oysters before
travelling up to London together. We found that
the railway officials in France had not the faintest
idea where the train was bound for, or when it
would get there. First of all we were told that we
would be crossing the Channel from Boulogne, and

294 TIBETAN TREK

accordingly sent off wires to our people to meet us
at the appointed place. A few hours later a report
stated that it was not Boulogne at all, but Calais
that was meant, so we countermanded our previous
telegrams on the strength of it. When we arrived in
Paris we were informed that as we were eight hours
behind time, we would certainly be too late for any
boat, but that we were to be decanted at Boulogne,
where we would have to stay the night. By then
the old brains were so confused by the whole business
that we were scarcely even surprised when we were
put down in Calais in time to catch the last boat to
Dover. We had been warned by a kindly guard
that the Channel was almost unbelievably rough
owing to the storms which had lately swept the land,
so we expected to find it like a mill-pond, and were
not disappointed.

Thus ended my part of the Expedition. B. C. was
still in India, and Kingdon Ward, as I learnt after
some months, was having a most exciting and success-
ful time in the depths of Tibet, making great dis-
coveries and finding enough new flowers to satisfy
even his eager heart. I owe him a tremendous debt
for having taken me along. It had been a good trip,
and even the few discomforts now seem to me to
have been quite pleasant, so that I can honestly say
that I would rather browse on herbs in the wilds
than live as a stalled ox in the stables of civilisation.

THE END

INDEX

Abors, the, 27
Acolytes, Buddhist, 155-6
A-k, see Kishen Singh
Ants, 193
Arrack, 173
Ata, 1 14

Return to, from Yak Camp, 125
Return to, from Glacier Camp, 153
Ata Chu (river), no, 1 16, 165

(valley), journey in the, 110-44,
152-65

Ata Kang La, the, 136, 148
Auld, Comrade, 293

Bailey, Colonel, 61
Bamboo, use of, 31-2
Barometer, loss of, 148
Bathtub, an improvised, 194
Bees, 69, 217, 244, 251, 254
Bertram, 249, 285

Bill, Brother, n, 12, 17, 18, 19, 292-3
Birds, 74, 141, 150, 190, 224, 259,
266, 278

Blister-flies, 38, 208, 254
Books, Tibetan, 102
Boots, trouble with, 115, 184, 219,
239, 248, 255, 270
Boundary Stone, the, 54
Brooks Carrington, B. R., v, 19, 23,
3&~9, 42, 53, 65, 69, 86, 94-5,
in, 138, 139, 142, 143, 147,
149, 154, 158, 160, 164, 166,
169, 1 71, 180, 186, 187, 188, 189,
191, 194, 199, 201, 204, 209, 21 1,
212, 214, 217, 219, 220, 221, 225,
227, 229, 233, 236, 241, 242, 246,
250, 251, 255, 256, 259-60, 264,
268, 280-1, 282, 284, 286-7, 288,
290, 291, 294
Bruce, General, 13

Bundles, method of carrying, 31, 237
Butterflies, 1x6, 133, 143, 167, 265

Cattle, Tibetan, 102-4, 122
Chang, 71, 96, I7L m> *82
Cheese, Tibetan, 104

Cheti La, the, 134, 136, 140, 141, 144,
146, 152

Chmgnambum, 287, 288
Chompo (mountain), 116, 121, 133
Christabel, 252, 256, 267, 285
Christians, Shan, 266
Chumbi (the head servant), 20, 32,
33, 35, 57, 77, 84, 99, 109, 115,
^ I25> 149

Chutong, 125, 131, 133, 136, 138,
143, 146, 152
Clutterbuck, H., 41
Coolie-loads, weight of, 24
Coolies, trouble with the, 32, 33, 37,
48, 52, 198, 2X1

Grace, Mr. and Mrs., 23-6, 29, 34,
202, 290

Cranbrook, Lord, 219, 235, 277
Cross-bows, Shan, 259
Cuthbert(a), 237, 285, 290, 292

Dallas-Smith, Colonel, 25
Dati Falls, the, 55-6
Delei (river), the, 41, 82
Dening, 26, 28, 32
Dentistry, amateur, 139, 201
Di Chu Valley, the, 197, 202, 206,
208, 213, 222
Dihang (river), the, 27
Dogs, Tibetan, 69, 83, 172, 175, 207,
215, 216, 217
Dreyi, 32, 34
Dri, 81, 85, 188
Dundas, 61

Dunkirk to Budapesth, journey in a
canoe from, 12
Dyrenfurth, Professor, 21

Earthquake, an, 198

Farrell, Captain, 25, 32, no
Fires (grass), 49
Fishing tackle, home-made, 42
Flowers, wild, 56, 82, 88-9, 122, 134,
146, 156, 167, 179-80, 218
Flying-foxes, 40

Fruits, local varieties of, 41, 53, 106,
*53, *95, 246

Gamble, Captain W. M. F., £275, 276,
277, 278, 279, 280, 282, 285
Gawai, 246, 248, 249
Ghalum (river), 51
Gibbons, 262, 265
Giwang, 84-92, 174, 187
Glacier Gamp, 145-51
Glaciers, 116, 118, 121, 123, 132, 133,
136, 145, 14S, *49, *5*>
Gregorson, Dr., 27
Guns, Tibetan, 207

Haircutting, amateur, 34-5
Haita, 224, 226, 230, 233, 234, 236
Hares, pygmy, 139
Harvest Festival, a Shan, 282-4
Hertz, Fort, 152, 197, 225, 226, 227,
241, 255, 268, 269, 272-86
Hornets, 246-7
Houses, Tibetan, 67, 101, 128
Hpaialangdam, 249
Hunters, Tibetan, 213-17
Huts, Khanung, 241
Mishmi, 47

Jaglum, 37, 48, 68

Kachins, 49

Kangri Karpo Chu, no
Kaulback, Colonel H. A., n~i2
Kaulback, Ronald :

Arranging expedition with F. King-
don Ward, 13
Arrival at Fort Hertz, 272
Arrival in England, 294
Bitten by a Russell’s Viper, 253
Collecting Himalayan Flowers, 59,
122, 137, 141, 156
Entering Burma, 223
Entering Tibet, 54
Entertained by Buddhist Monks,
127, 129

Forbidden to enter Tibet, 99
Interrogated by the Governor of
Zayul, 63

Leaving Rangoon, 292
Marching to Lepa, 171-86
On Rope suspension bridge, 55
Parting with B. R. Brooks Carring-
ton, 291

Parting with F. Kingdon Ward, 150
Preparing stores for journey, 23-4
Reputed among the natives to be a
doctor, 68

Septic wounds from leech bites, 139

Kaulback, Ronald (« contd .) :

Setting^ out for Tibet, 26
Sick with malaria, 289, 293
Starting back for Burma, 152
Upbringing, 11-12
Visits to Bombay, 1 7, 292
Visits to Calcutta, 19, 292
Visit to Deolali, 18-19
Visit to Marseilles, 15-16
Visit to monastery, 154-60
Khanungs, the, 228
Kingdon Ward, Captain F., 13, 14,
*9* 21, 23, 24, 27, 32, 34, 38,
4*> 43, 51, 52. 53. 56, 57. 59) 62,
63, 64, 65, 66, 68, 69, 73-4,
79, 81, 82, 85, 89, 90, 93, 94,

99-100, ioi, 109, 1 10-11 1, 112,
1 13, 1 14, 1 15, 117, 118, 119,
120, 122, 124, 127, 129, 131,
134) *35. 137, I3 8 ) 1 4°. Hi) *42,
143, *44, 146, *47, *49, *52, *56,
160, 169, 177, 180, 195, 197, 235,
245,247,261,277,294
A magnificent leader and mar-
vellous companion,” 150
A skilled photographer, 1 14
His generosity, 154
Known and liked all over the
frontiers of India and Burma,
277

Prestige conferred by his scarlet
sweater, 33

Remarkable memory, 245
Remarkable powers of marching.

3 2 > 99

Skill in dealing with natives, 34,
37, 4 8 , 52

Kishen Singh, 75, 79, m, 127, 131,
*7*

Lathes, Tibetan, 126, 128, 182
Leeches, 39-40, 231, 232-3, 234, 236,
279

Leedham, Mr,, 261, 275, 277

Lepa, 171, 172, 174, 181

Lepa Chu, the, 180

Lepa La, the, 177-8

Lizards, legless, 249

Lohit Valley, journey through the,

36-57

Mahseer, 279-80
Mails, loss of, 98
Mali Hka, 271
Mandalay, 292
Marseilles, 15-18, 293
Minzong, 50

INDEX

Mishmis, the, 27-8, 29, 41, 82, 93,
190, 191

Their characteristics, 33, 45, 47, 49

Their costume and weapons, 30
Modung, 108, no, 1 12, 1 14, 1 15,
r6o, 163

“ Monte Cristo,” 15
Mosquitoes, precautions against, 25,
195, 206, 255
Musk, 1 70

Applied as specific for snake bite,
, .253

Myitkyina, 276, 279, 288, 289

Nam Tamai, the, 198, 238, 243, 255,
261

Nam Tamai valley, shortage of
food in the, 245-6, 255
Nam Tisang, the, 255, 265
Nawng Hkai, 279, 284, 286
Nettles, Tibetan, 113, 114
Nihal Chand, Dr., 275 -6, 287
Nimnoo, 29, 33, 37, 48
Nogmung, 255, 258, 264-8, 270, 281

Oli La, the, 149
Opium, 49

Pangam, 37, 46, 47
Bemxnican, 127, 146
Pinzho (the cook), 20, 23, 51, 63, 77,
87, 88, 91, 104, 1 19, 149, 152,
*54, *57? 15$, *fi4> *70? *7*? *8*?
186, 191, 194, 199, 208, 2 1 1, 225,
229, 231, 239, 249, 251, 252, 253,
263, 268, 280, 281, 289, 291
Prayer-flag, erection of, 96-7
Pyramids, Mani, 70, 83

Reeves, Mr., 13
Reginald, 256, 267
Rest houses, Tibetan, 80, 85-7
Rice spirit, 58, 65, 68, 71, 73
Rima, 56, 57, 69-71, 73, 75, 76, 197,
203, 206, 217
Robert, 249, 250

Rong To valley, journey up the,
77-110

Journey down the, 165-92

Polyandry common in the, 108
Rongyul, 99, 101-8, 167, 169
Royal Central Asian Society, the, 13
Royal Geographical Society, the, 13
Rupert, 200' .

Russell, George, 12

Sachong, 80, 81, 98, 189, 190, 191,
* 92 , * 9 $

Saddles, Tibetan, 79-80
Sadiya, 21, 22-6, 201, 202, 290
Sally, 209, 210, 228, 234, 237, 263
Sand-flies, 43, 109, 121, 125, 176,

242 ■' vV.. ■

Seinghku and Nam Tamai valleys,
shortage of salt in the, 235
Seinghku valley, journey through the,
223-38

Shigatang, 57~74? 77? 7 8 ? 8 4? 9*?
„ 93? 99? *05? 192-205, 231, 235

Slavers, 229

Smoking, Tibetan disapproval of, 65
Snakes, 209, 234, 237, 247-8, 252-3,
256, 287

Snuff-taking, Tibetan method of, 72
Sole, 92-9, 169, 170-2
Spiders, *93? 2 59-6o
Springs, hot, 213, 218
Stanford, Mr., Deputy Commissioner,
Myitkyina, 276
And Mrs. Stanford, 289, 291
111 with enteric, 276
Stoats, 223

Stoking, voluntary, 293
Stores, theft of, 84
Sumprabum, 288

Suspension bridges, bamboo, 37, 41,
1 10, 238, 243

Rope, 54-5? 7 8 ? i<> 8 ? *67? *7 2 ? 185?
192, 203

Sykes, Sir Percy, 12-13

Takin (deer), 213-14, 216, 217
Tashi Tandrup (the man of all work) ,
20, 23, 45, 77, 81, 88, 107, 124,
146, 149

Temple, Buddhist, 158-60
Tents, unsatisfactory, 142-3
Tibet, climate of, 100-1

Difficulty of getting a pass to enter,
99

Foreigners not allowed to kill
animals in, 209
Tibetans, costumes of, 61
Grime rare among, 85
Degree of literacy of, 96
Devotions of, 130-1, 155, 157,
178

Diet of, 58, 59, 64, 66, 158, 183,
*9*? *95

Dumb idiots common among, 157
Entertainments of, 161-2
Hairless faces, 84
Hospitality of, 109
Insensibility to cold, 145, 1 79
Irrigation terraces made by, 94
Powers of endurance of, 184

INDEX

Tibetans (contd.)

System ofwoodcutting employed by*
9 °

Ticks, 89-90, 132
Tidding Saddle, the, 35
Timothy, 190--1
“ Tobacco,” Tibetan, €6
Tobin, Colonel, 20
Townend, H. P. V., 19
. Toyui, 187-8

White slime found in forest, my
sterious, 48 . . _

/Williamson, Mr., 27

Yak Camp, 121-5

Zayul, Governor of, 59, 62-7, 73,
99, 100, 180, 187, 192
Inhabitants of, 72, 76

Sv -

ry: i f -< I ? ^

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